96* 


Mr.  Grosvenot  's  Daughter.     Page  93. 


Mr.  Grosvenor  s  Daughter. 

A  STORY  OF  CITY  LIFE. 

BY 

JULIA  MAcNAIR  WRIGHT. 


"  GriYe  her  of  the  frait  oi  'inti?  l^ands,  and  let  her  ov/n 
•Works  praise  her  in  the  gates." 


AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

150  NASSAU   STREET,   NEW   YORK. 


COPYRIGHT, 

AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 
1 593- 


PREFACE. 


THERE  was  a  busy  idler  once  who  spent 
much  time  in  looking  at  various  objects  through 
a  microscope.  One  day  he  had  placed  in  a  glass 
cup  a  little  world  of  pond  water,  and  in  it, 
moored  to  a  twig,  he  saw  what  seemed  to  be  a 
pair  of  wheel-like  organs  continually  revolving. 
As  he  looked  steadfastly,  he  perceived  that  the 
wheels  were  not  really  turning,  but  were  made 
up  of  fine  hairs,  or  cilia,  set  in  a  close  circle,  and, 
moved  by  a  compact  and  vigorous  muscular 
system,  lashed  the  water  with  such  velocity 
that  they  seemed  to  be  whirling  like  the  fly- 
wheels of  an  engine  in  operation.  This  motion 
of  the  cilia  whipping  the  water  occasioned  a 
vortex  determined  towards  the  wheels,  and  just 
back  of  these  wheels  lay  a  gizzard  or  digestive 
organ,  which  was  constantly  filled  and  fed  by 
the  living  atoms  swept  into  it  by  the  revolving 
cilia ;  for  this  that  the  busy  idler  was  observing 
was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  rotifer,  an 
animal  which  is  all  stomach,  and  tentacles  for 
filling  that  stomach. 

There  was  another  busy  idler  who,  for  want 
of  a  better  occupation,  went  up  in  a  balloon  and, 


2138879 


4  PREFACE. 

hanging  high  in  air,  saw  pathways  and  high- 
ways meeting  and  intersecting  where  the  city, 
a  great  rotifer,  lay  across  the  roads,  whirling 
its  tentacles  of  factories  and  forges,  markets 
and  exchanges,  andby  their  force  creating  a 
current  which  determined  the  varied  flotsam 
and  jetsam  of  human  life  into  its  open  maw. 

The  rotifer  whipping  the  water  deflects  from 
their  course  and  captures  the  living  creatures 
idly  cruising  about  for  pleasure,  or  hungrily 
seeking  food,  or  curiously  gratifying  inquisitive- 
ness.  The  rotifer  of  civilization,  the  city,  drags 
into  itself  the  enjoyment-loving,  the  wealth- 
seeker,  the  curious,  the  hunger-bitten,  and  holds 
them  and  will  not  let  them  go. 

From  these  myriads  drawn  into  the  city  and 
held  there  inexorably,  how  often  and  how  long 
rises  a  bitter  cry  for  a  better  adjustment  of  bur- 
dens, for  a  broadening  and  ameliorating  and 
uplifting  of  their  lives !  What  shall  be  done  for 
all  these  ?  Once,  in  the  ancient  days,  there  was 
a  glorious  and  golden  city  in  a  plain.  "  And  the 
Lord  said,  Because  the  cry  of 'Sodom  is  great, 
I  will  go  down  now  and  see  whether  they  have 
done  altogether  according  to  the  cry  of  it,  and 
if  not  I  will  know." 

THE  AUTHOR. 


OONTRNTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Daughter  of  Dives  --------------------------------  PAGE      7 

CHAPTER  II. 
"The  Rich  Man  also  Died"  ____  .........  -------------------    21 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Other  Half  ..........  —  ................................    38 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Purple  and  Fine  Linen  ----------------------  ..  _____________    53 

CHAPTER  V. 
At  the  Gate  .......  ______  ......  _____  ........................    68 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Crumbs  ----------------------------------------------------    83 

CHAPTER  VII. 
"Son,  Remember"  -----------------------------------------    99 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Thou  Receivedst  Good  Things  ------------------------------  121 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Likewise  Lazarus  Evil  Things  ---------------------------  ...  135 

CHAPTER  X. 

Harvests  and  Harvests  ___________________________  .  ______  .  __  150 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Fountain  of  Sympathy  ---------------------------------  165 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Gathered  in  Sorrow's  Garden ..................  182 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
On  the  Altar  of  Sacrifice . ._ . 197 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Return  to  the  Classes 211 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Yearning  for  the  Masses .... 227 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

True  Yoke-Fellows 244 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Help  Those  Women 259 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Mystery  of  It 270 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Settlement— 283 

CHAPTER  XX. 

A  Test  Applied 300 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Fair  Fabric— - 317 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Through  Honor  and  Dishonor 332 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Widening  Plans 346 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"At  Last  I  Tell  You  the  Truth  " 359 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Arise  and  Let  us  Build 374 


MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  DAUGHTER  OF  DIVES. 

"She  was  one  of  those  who  by  fortune's  boon 
Are  born,  as  they  say,  with  a  silver  spoon 

In  her  mouth,  not  a  wooden  ladle  ; 
To  speak  according  to  poets'  wont, 
Plutus  as  sponsor  stood  at  her  font, 
And  Midas  rocked  the  cradle." 

IN  the  city  the  daughters  of  Dives  and  the 
daughters  of  Dives'  poor  brethren  live  near  to- 
gether. The  daughter  of  Dives  has  her  windows 
open  upon  the  broad  and  stately  thoroughfares 
and  avenues,  the  daughter  of  the  poor  shelters 
in  the  little  back  courts,  alleys,  and  no-thorough- 
fares. The  daughter  of  Dives  finds  her  wants 
supplied  by  the  labor  of  her  impoverished  sister 
in  Adam,  and  she  in  turn  secures  her  bread  and 
her  bed  by  providing  for  the  wants  or  catering 
to  the  whims  of  the  daughter  of  Dives.  Wheth- 
er these  realize  it  or  not,  whether  they  are 
friends  or  enemies  or  mutually  ignorant  of 


8  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

each  other  altogether,  whether  the  consumer 
never  thinks  of  the  producer,  or  the  producer 
ignores  the  consumer,  there  is  between  them 
a  continuous  interchange  of  the  offices  of  civil- 
ized life,  and  the  one  cannot  exist  without  the 
other.  Neither  of  them  has  ever  appreciated 
the  inner  heart  of  this  vital  truth:  neither  of 
them  has  ever  fulfilled  her  office  and  errand  to 
the  other  as  it  has  been  assigned  her  by  God. 
Sometimes  a  little  light  of  realization,  a  little 
beautiful  effort,  a  little  vigorous  sympathetic 
common-sense  action,  has  been  secured ;  but  the 
real  work  each  for  each,  the  real  sympathy  and 
fellowship,  has  not  yet  begun.  When  this  is  well 
inaugurated,  when  it  reaches  its  true  greatness, 
it  will  usher  in  the  social  golden  age. 

We  cannot  consider  in  this  book  the  poor 
man's  daughter  only,  for  the  daughter  of  Dives 
is  there  close  beside  her.  We  must  write  of  the 
two  together,  and  let  us  begin,  with  due 
courtesy,  with  the  daughter  of  Dives,  for  social 
law  sets  her  in  the  precedence,  and  upon  her 
also  is  laid  the  heaviest  responsibility  for  what 
has  gone  wrong  in  the  social  relations  of  the 

daughters  of  a  common  humanity. 

***** 

The  daughter  of  Dives  appears  upon  the 
scene  as  Miss  Grosvenor,  ready  for  a  full-dress 
promenade.  She  is  two  feet  high.  Her  eyes  are 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  DIVES.  9 

blue,  innocent,  laughter-filled,  her  complexion 
true  apple-blossom,  her  hair  soft  golden  rings. 

"  Just  come  from  heaven,  its  gates  have  shed 
Their  sunshine  on  the  baby's  head." 

Miss  Grosvenor  wears  a  blue  velvet  cloak  and 
a  bonnet  to  match,  both  affluent  in  Brussels  lace. 
As  this  stage  of  her  earthly  experience  Miss 
Grosvenor  does  not  know  whether  the  roses  on 
the  carpet  are  real  flowers  or  fabrications ;  she 
supposes  that  the  ceiling  with  its  chandelier  is 
part  of  the  sun-lit  firmament;  the  centre-table 
affords  her  a  magnificent  pavilion,  and  she 
walks  among  the  drawing-room  chairs  as  one 
walks  in  mighty  groves.  Small  as  she  is,  Miss 
Grosvenor  is  the  central  sun  of  this  city  estab- 
lishment, splendid  with  suddenly  made  wealth. 
Around  her,  as  satellites,  revolve  the  various 
members  of  the  family,  her  father  like  Saturn  in 
a  triple  belt  of  business  cares ;  her  mother,  Jupi- 
ter-wise drawing  dress-makers,  milliners,  and 
shop-keepers  as  moons  in  her  train ;  Uncle  Josiah 
as  a  distant  Neptune  or  Uranus  watching  apart ; 
the  French  bonne  taking  her  time  from  Miss  Gros- 
venor, as  the  earth  from  the  sun.  The  house- 
keeper might  have  been  a  moon,  and  all  the 
servants  inconsiderable  asteroids,  in  this  system 
of  which  Miss  Grosvenor  was  the  centre.  The 
French  bonne,  by  the  way,  was  likely  to  give 


io  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Miss  Grosvenor  some  serious  mispronunciations 
both  of  French  and  English  and  some  very 
doubtful  ideas  as  to  religion  and  morals. 

This  resplendent  city  home  was  not  however 
a  fragment  of  the  Milky  Way,  a  solar-system 
moving  carefully  as  God  wills ;  it  was  a  "  shining 
constellation  lying  apart,"  a  portion  of  a  social 
and  monetary  system  in  which  the  idea  of  God  in 
Christ  is  growing  daily  dim.  The  last  spark  of 
the  former  simple,  plain,  God-fearing,  honest, 
old-time  family  habits  expired  when  papa  and 
mamma  Grosvenor  named  their  heiress  Deb- 
orah, after  her  paternal  grandmother.  This 
name  the  father,  reminiscent  of  his  boyhood, 
insisted  upon ;  the  family  agreed  that  the 
cognomen  was  hideous,  but  its  bearer,  being  a 
beautiful,  imperious  little  heiress,  reigned  thence- 
forth as  Miss  Grosvenor. 

When  Miss  Grosvenor  first  began  to  manage 
her  own  hands  and  feet  and  have  her  own  opin- 
ions, her  sweet  generous  nature  inclined  her  to- 
wards other  children,  and  those  whose  poverty 
made  them  more  forlorn  won  her  kindest  smiles  ; 
she  would  interrupt  her  dress  parade  in  the 
avenue  or  park  to  take  the  hand  of  some  shabby 
youngster,  offer  her  box  of  candy  to  be  shared, 
or  endow  with  her  best  doll  some  doll-less  child. 
The  bonne,  not  daring  to  slap  Miss  Grosvenor  for 
such  early  Christian  manifestations,  slapped  the 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  DIVES.  II 

recipients  of  her  bounty,  and  drove  them  away 
with  opprobrious  epithets,  thus  impressing  Miss 
Grosvenor  with  the  great  fact  that  the  person 
with  money  and  the  person  without  money  be- 
long to  different  orders  of  creation  and  have 
nothing  in  common. 

Miss  Grosvenor  was  taught  to  bestow  her 
sweetest  smiles  and  most  gracious  little  words 
and  gestures  upon  the  people  who  wore  good 
clothes.  After  a  training  of  some  length  in  this 
direction  Miss  Grosvenor  ceased  to  lighten  by  a 
smile  the  woes  of  poverty,  and  instead  turned 
up  her  dear  little  nose  at  the  miserable  and 
drew  away  her  short  skirts  as  she  passed  them 
with  lofty  head. 

Uncle  Josiah,  from  his  distant  sphere  in  the 
family  system,  averred  that  being  always  wor- 
shipped, waited  upon,  and  indulged,  being  always 
a  receiver  and  never  a  giver,  Miss  Grosvenor 
would  become  hard,  narrow,  selfish,  vain.  Uncle 
Josiah  mourned  when  he  saw  the  little  white 
soul  of  his  niece  becoming  clouded  with  pride 
and  self-will.  Uncle  Josiah  saw  this  but  seldom, 
as  he  lived  in  a  distant  village,  having  all  his 
life  preferred  a  holy  peace  to  the  strife  after 
gold.  Uncle  Josiah  emphatically  loved  not  the 
world,  devoting  himself  to  serving  God  among 
his  fellows  and  growing  in  grace  with  what 
celerity  he  might.  Uncle  Josiah  was  odd  and 


12  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

old-fashioned,  Dives  said,  but  said  it  always  with 
a  thought  of  reverence  and  a  self-condemning 
admiration  and  envy  of  that  serene  and  conse- 
crated life  hidden  in  Christ  with  God,  and  so 
contented  now  and  so  safe  for  by-and-by.  The 
parental  Dives  no  doubt  wished  his  child  to 
have  Uncle  Josiah 's  approval,  and  if  at  any 
serious  hour  the  question  had  been  put,  did  he 
wish  Deborah  to  be  like  Josiah  or  himself,  he 
would  have  sighed  and  admitted  that  Josiah  had 
chosen  a  good  part,  not  to  be  taken  away,  because 
in  all  things  he  had  set  God  and  his  grace  first. 

Now  and  then  papa  or  mamma  found  time 
to  teach  their  child  a  prayer  before  she  went  to 
bed  ;  but  generally  these  parents  were  too  busy 
with  money  -  getting  and  money  -  spending  to 
remember  the  spiritual  needs  of  the  little  one, 
so  she  went  prayerless  to  bed  or  the  bonne  taught 
her  an  Ave. 

When  Miss  Grosvenor  was  five  years  old  she 
was  sent,  at  the  pastor's  suggestion,  to  the  in- 
fant class  in  the  Sunday-school.  She  went  in  a 
gown  loaded  with  embroidery  ;  she  wore  French 
boots,  kid  gloves,  and  a  hat  so  covered  with 
plumes  that  it  looked  like  Birnam  wood  moving 
upon  Dunsinane.  Before  she  left  home  she 
was  informed  that  she  was  the  loveliest  and 
best  dressed  child  in  the  city.  She  naturally 
spent  the  class  hour  in  meditating  upon  her 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  DIVES.  13 

own  appearance  and  comparing  notes  on  clothes 
with  the  other  children. 

Christianity  as  represented  in  a  wealthy 
church  is  by  no  means  at  a  discount  in  the  nine- 
teenth century.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grosvenor  had 
handed  in  their  church  letters  when  they  came 
to  the  city ;  they  purchased  a  commodious  pew 
and  were  usually  present  at  the  morning  service 
at  church.  The  dinner  on  Sunday  was  the  most 
elaborate  one  of  the  week;  guests  were  fre- 
quently present.  Miss  Grosvenor  sometimes 
went  to  church,  always  shared  the  dinner,  was 
petted  by  the  guests,  and  in  the  afternoon  went 
to  drive  with  her  papa,  who  was  too  busy  to  go 
out  with  her  on  secular  days. 

When  Miss  Grosvenor  was  seven  years  of 
age  she  began  to  go  to  school.  Sometimes  she 
went  to  a  kindergarten,  sometimes  to  the  Sisters 
at  the  convent,  sometimes  to  a  "  Fashionable 
School  for  Young  Ladies ;"  sometimes  she  did 
not  go  at  all.  At  thirteen  her  ignorance  would 
have  been  phenomenal  had  it  not  been  shared 
by  many  of  her  young  friends  who  were  simi- 
larly brought  up.  But  meantime  at  six  years  of 
age  she  had  been  sent  to  a  dancing-school,  and 
seven  years  of  attendance,  twice  a  week,  had 
enabled  her  to  dance  charmingly,  and  her  mam- 
ma's friends  declared  that  she  had  "angelic 
manners."  Possibly  some  passing  angel,  know- 


14  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ing  of  "  angelic  manners  "  from  long  citizenship 
in  heaven,  may  have  dissented  from  the  verdict 
of  the  family  friends. 

"  For  what  are  you  training  your  child," 
asked  Uncle  Josiah,  "for  this  world  or  for 
heaven  ?" 

"  I  do  n't  see  why  you  speak  as  if  she  could 
not  be  trained  for  both,"  said  mamma  Grosve- 
nor  plaintively. 

"  I  see  no  training  for  heaven !"  said  Uncle 
Josiah.  "  She  knows  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the 
Ten  Commandments,  but  almost  nothing  else 
from  the  Bible.  She  does  not  know  whether 
Genesis  is  in  the  front  or  the  back  part  of  the 
book." 

Mamma  Grosvenor  discovered  that  at  thir- 
teen years  of  age  her  daughter  was  growing 
up  towards  young  lady-hood,  and  there  was  a 
change  of  regime.  The  bonne  was  dismissed,  a 
governess  was  engaged,  and  Miss  Grosvenor 
was  obliged  to  practise  two  hours  daily  and  was 
drilled  at  times  in  French  and  German.  She 
also  read  what  novels  she  chose,  making  her 
own  selection.  Her  childish  toys  were  sent  to 
the  garret,  Miss  Grosvenor  learned  to  play  cards, 
her  hair  was  done  up  higher,  and  her  gowns 
were  lengthened. 

And  here  there  was  a  change  in  her  sur- 
roundings, for  mamma  Grosvenor  died,  and 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  DIVES.  1 5 

when  Miss  Grosvenor  was  fifteen  she  had  a  new 
mamma,  who  prided  herself  upon  sedulously 
completing  the  work  of  the  first  mamma  upon 
the  same  lines.  Under  her  supervision  Miss 
Grosvenor  spent  all  her  time  in  amusing  herself 
or  in  doing  something  to  accomplish  herself. 

Uncle  Josiah  declared  that  his  niece's  train- 
ing was  securing  its  legitimate  result,  and  ma- 
king of  her  a  vain,  frivolous,  useless  woman ;  he 
said  she  was  unfitted  to  meet  the  dangers  and 
trials  of  life ;  she  had  been  left  without  religious 
principles  or  moral  purposes ;  she  had  no  knowl- 
edge of  her  Bible,  no  communion  with  God. 
But  Miss  Grosvenor  herself  had  no  idea  that 
she  lacked  anything,  and  would  have  asked 
calmly,  "  What  is  there  worth  having  which 
money  cannot  buy?" 

When  Miss  Grosvenor  had  completed  her 
seventeenth  year  she  entered  society  as  a  full- 
blown young  lady.  In  the  dizzy  maze  and  splen- 
dor of  her  first  season  in  society  Miss  Grosvenor 
took  part  in  balls,  dinners,  card-parties,  suppers, 
concerts,  operas,  theatres,  until  between  late 
hours,  continuous  dancing  and  visiting,  she 
would  have  died  of  fatigue  if  she  had  not  slept 
each  day  until  noon,  and  on  Sabbath  stayed  in 
bed  all  day  until  it  was  time  to  rise  and  receive 
her  young  gentlemen  callers. 

But  right  in  the  midst  of  these  festivities 


1 6  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

two,  the  gayest  of  her  young  friends,  died. 
These  deaths  caused  a  sudden  lull  in  the  win- 
ter's dissipation.  A  revivalist  was  preaching 
in  the  city ;  religious  interest  pervaded  the 
churches.  A  large  number  of  young  people, 
Miss  Grosvenor  among  them,  concluded  that 
they  had  better  join  the  church.  Miss  Grosve- 
nor had  supposed  that  her  church  officials  would 
lay  down  some  rules  for  her  conduct,  expound 
to  her  her  duties,  give  her  some  warnings,  de- 
mand promises,  or  inquire  into  her  experiences. 
She  was  rather  in  terror,  for  she  found  her  mind 
a  blank  as  to  religious  knowledge  or  holy  pur- 
poses. But  she  was  only  welcomed  and  shaken 
hands  with  and  called  a  child  of  the  church, 
and  had  it  taken  for  granted  that  as  her  parents 
were  church  members  they  had  given  her  all 
due  instructions. 

After  that  there  was  a  little  seeming  piety. 
Miss  Grosvenor  taught  in  Sunday-school  for  a 
whole  month  and  attended  prayer-meeting  with 
more  or  less  regularity  until  warm  weather 
arrived.  Then  she  went  to  Saratoga,  the  White 
Mountains,  Europe ;  and  who  can  be  religious 
while  travelling  ?  Not  Miss  Grosvenor. 

People  said  that  Dives'  daughter  was  hard- 
hearted ;  she  made  several  engagements  of  mar- 
riage and  broke  them  at  her  pleasure.  She 
seemed  cold  as  an  icicle  and  careless  as  a  butter- 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  DIVES.  I/ 

fly.  But  sometimes,  when  she  heard  minor  mu- 
sic or  saw  a  funeral,  she  wished  that  she  had 
been  brought  up  in  a  different  way  and  were 
not  so  afraid  to  die.  Once  an  old  minister  asked 
her  about  her  future  hope.  She  said  she  "  sup- 
posed of  course  she  should  get  to  heaven." 

"Would  you  enjoy  heaven  if  you  reached 
there?"  he  asked.  "  Might  you  not  find  yourself 
an  alien  in  heaven  ?  The  only  door  of  heaven 
is  the  crucified  Christ ;  the  language  of  heaven 
has  for  its  key-note  '  Not  unto  us,  but  unto  thy 
name  be  glory.'  God  is  our  Father  because  we 
are  found  in  Christ,  his  Son;  the  garments  of 
heaven  are  washed  white  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb,  and  there  the  '  happy  dear-bought  peo- 
ple '  follow  the  Lamb  whithersoever  he  goeth." 

When  Miss  Grosvenor  heard  all  this  she 
looked  into  her  heart  and  found  nothing  in 
harmony  with  heaven.  Then  she  was  greatly 
discontented. 

She  found  around  her  many  who  mocked  at 
the  "  Calvary  myth,"  and  her  present  mother 
made  no  pretence  of  caring  for  religious  matters. 
With  her  father,  Dives,  she  was  but  slightly 
acquainted ;  she  thought  of  Uncle  Josiah  and 
wondered  if  his  life  had  ever  been  such  an  arid 
desert  as  she  found  hers  in  its  spring. 

Lookers-on  in  Venice  thought  that  this  daugh- 
ter of  Dives  should  be  the  happiest  of  women. 

Mr.  Grosvenor'e  Daughter.  2 


1 8  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

She  had  youth,  health,  beauty,  leisure,  riches; 
and  yet  she  lived  in  a  supreme  discontent,  for 
"  man  doth  not  live  by  bread  alone,"  and  "  a 
man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of 
things  that  he  possesseth."  Her  Uncle  Josiah 
remarked  Miss  Grosvenor's  weariness  and  dis- 
content, and  said  she  was  born  for  something 
better  than  the  trivial  worldly  life ;  it  was  God 
who  was  stirring  up  the  young  eagle's  nest  to 
dislodge  her  and  force  her  to  take  flight  nearer 
to  the  sun. 

When  Miss  Grosvenor  was  out  driving  or 
riding  on  horseback  with  a  groom  attending 
her,  or  was  reclining  lazily  in  her  carriage, 
while  her  mother  spent  hours  in  the  stores  look- 
ing at  new  styles,  the  tired  harassed  daughters 
of  Lazarus  sometimes  saw  her  and  envied  her. 
How  happy  she  ought  to  be !  What  was  there 
that  she  lacked  ?  Why  that  droop  at  the  corners 
of  the  pretty  mouth  ?  As  for  Miss  Grosvenor, 
she  never  noticed  these  daughters  of  Lazarus  or 
thought  of  them  at  all ;  it  never  occurred  to  her 
that  their  faces  were  pale,  their  eyes  heavy,  their 
manner  bold  or  discouraged,  their  hands  work- 
worn,  their  whole  situation  depressing  and  pain- 
ful. By  her  nature  she  had  been  sympathetic, 
helpful,  loving,  ready  to  make  common  cause 
with  all.  In  fact  nearly  all  young  children  seem 
to  have  inherited  the  inspirations  of  the  early 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  DIVES.  19 

church.  But  in  Miss  Deborah  Grosvenor  these 
original  humanities  had  been  deeply  buried 
under  a  selfish  training ;  she  had  forgotten  that 
the  world  was  made  for  any  one  but  the  daugh- 
ter of  Dives,  and  yet  the  daughter  of  Dives  did 
not  enjoy  her  world !  Finally  she  was  twenty- 
one,  and  began  to  wonder  why  she  had  ever 
been  born,  and  to  think  that  it  was  all  a  great 
mistake. 

One  bank  holiday  when  Dives,  for  a  wonder, 
had  withdrawn  from  his  business  cares  for  an 
hour  or  two,  he  went  out  to  ride  in  the  great 
barouche  with  his  wife  and  daughter.  At  a 
turn  in  the  avenue  two  of  the  huge  dray  horses 
wherewith  Lazarus  does  part  of  his  work  for 
Dives,  in  a  frantic  runaway  bore  down  upon 
the  slenderly  built  thoroughbreds  of  Dives.  The 
coachman  and  footman  on  their  high  seat  saw 
the  danger  and  sprang  to  save  themselves. 
Why  should  they  risk  anything  for  Dives  who 
was  only  their  employer  ?  One  of  them  reached 
the  ground  with  a  broken  arm,  the  other  with  a 
broken  neck.  The  three  who  were  in  the 
barouche  did  not  see  what  was  coming  upon 
them  ;  there  was  a  rush,  a  crash,  an  overset,  the 
wild  cry  of  human  and  brute  agony.  The  next 
day  black  silk  and  crape  hung  from  the  door  of 
Dives,  for  Mrs.  Grosvenor  had  only  survived  the 
accident  for  an  hour.  The  papers  said  that 


20  MR.   GROSVENOR'S   DAUGHTER. 

Miss  Grosvenor  was  uninjured  and  that  Mr. 
Grosvenor  had  received  a  hurt  of  a  very  serious 
character.  Thus  in  an  instant  Deborah  Grosve- 
nor, who  had  been  cradled  all  her  life  in  down 
and  roses,  found  herself  standing  between  the 
living  and  the  dead  in  her  dismayed  household. 


"THE  RICH   MAN  ALSO  DIED."  21 

CHAPTER  II. 

"THE  RICH  MAN  ALSO  DIED." 

"  But  who  shall  so  forecast  the  years 
And  find  in  loss  a  gain  to  match, 
Or  reach  a  hand  through  time  to  catch 
The  far-off  interest  of  tears  ?" 

IN  the  Grosvenor  household  there  was  a 
most  dignified  housekeeper  who  wore  a  black 
silk  gown,  and  whose  function  it  was  to  keep  the 
establishment  always  in  the  show  order  of  a 
brilliant  social  life.  She  had  never  been  called 
upon  to  administer  upon  sickness  and  death, 
and  before  the  horror  of  these  she  sank  helpless. 
There  was  also  a  white-headed  Scotch  dame, 
Nurse  Jamieson,  of  sixty,  who  had  long  lived 
with  Grandmother  Deborah,  and  at  his  mother's 
death  Dives  had  brought  Nurse  Jamieson  to  his 
home ;  and,  as  Miss  Grosvenor  was  then  fifteen 
and  too  old  for  a  nurse,  the  dame  had  enjoyed 
a  cosey  little  room  in  the  attic  and  a  leisure  bro- 
ken only  by  the  care  of  the  family  mending. 
When  Dives  was  carried  in,  crushed  and  help- 
less, Nurse  Jamieson  took  her  place  by  his  bed- 
side and  telegraphed  for  Uncle  Josiah.  Then, 
as  if  aroused  at  last  into  life  by  the  call  of  ne- 
cessity, Miss  Grosvenor  took  the  reins  of  the 


22  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

household,  sent  for  doctors  aud  undertakers, 
directed  the  servants,  ordered  the  mourning,  and 
when  Nurse  Jamieson  reminded  her  that  the 
footman  was  in  the  hospital  and  the  coachman 
was  dead,  and  both  had  families — she  sent  a 
fifty-dollar  bill  to  each  of  the  families,  for  so  far 
as  she  knew  money  answereth  all  things.  Uncle 
Josiah  had  expected  to  find  a  pale  girl  in  hyster- 
ics in  a  darkened  room  ;  instead,  he  met  a  calm, 
emotionless,  self-assured  woman,  draped  in  the 
most  rigid  black,  who  in  the  shaded  library  was 
giving  audience  to  the  undertaker  and  the  fam- 
ily doctor.  She  gave  her  hand  to  Uncle  Josiah, 
who  kissed  her  cheek. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  come,"  she  said;  "we 
waited  for  you  to  announce  the  hour  of  the 
funeral;  and  I  wanted  your  advice  whether  to 
telegraph  to  Dr.  Grace  to  consult  with  Dr.  Mar- 
tin, in  father's  case.  We  have  already  sent  to 
Boston  for  Dr.  Grant.  Is  Dr.  Grace  in  your 
opinion  a  finer  surgeon  ?" 

But  when  he  went  to  his  brother  Dives,  Dives 
said  to  him,  "  Josiah,  I  am  not  to  be  deceived. 
Deborah  is  telegraphing  for  all  the  surgeons  in 
the  country,  and  wants  to  have  one  from  Lon- 
don. She  has  been  brought  up  to  think  that 
money  can  do  anything,  and  supposes  now  that 
it  can  save  me.  I  know  that  my  case  is  hopeless. 
In  a  few  weeks,  at  most,  I  shall  go  whence  I 


"THE   RICH  MAN  ALSO   DIED."  23 

shall  not  return.  God  has  seen  that  I  have  been 
too  busy  to  remember  Him,  and  this  is  his  way 
of  answering  the  prayers  of  our  mother,  which 
are  yet  lying  unanswered  before  his  throne — he 
sends  me  a  waiting-time  to  prepare  to  meet  my 
God." 

Then  the  funeral  of  Mrs.  Grosvenor  was 
concluded  with  great  splendor,  the  house  re- 
lapsed into  gloom  and  order,  no  one  told  Miss 
Grosvenor  that  her  father  was  taking  the  down- 
ward way  to  death.  She  believed  that  he  would 
recover  in  due  season,  and  now  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  had  opportunity  to  get  acquainted 
with  him.  The  crisis  in  affairs  having  passed, 
all  the  servants  having  recovered  their  self-com- 
mand, there  was  nothing  for  Miss  Grosvenor  but 
to  sink  back  in  her  darkened  home  into  her  cus- 
tomary inanition  and  general  disgust.  It  all 
seemed  more  tedious  than  ever. 

Now  also  Uncle  Josiah  had  opportunity  to 
get  acquainted  with  his  niece,  and  this  the  more 
earnestly  because  Dives  had  been  stirred  to 
great  anxiety  and  remorse  concerning  her,  and 
thought  how  she  had  been  robbed  of  human  in- 
terests and  spiritual  heritage,  and  made  by  a 
narrow  round  of  frivolous  cares  and  amusements 
to  centre  all  her  thoughts  and  wishes  upon  her- 
self. Dives,  brought  into  a  new  clearness  of 
vision  by  the  strong  light  falling  over  him  from 


24  MR.  GROSVEXCR'S  DAUGHTER. 

that  eternity  which  he  was  nearing,  wished  to 
undo  this  work  of  his  hands.  Uncle  Josiah,  find- 
ing that  his  brother  was  so  dissatisfied  with  what 
he  had  done  for  his  daughter,  wondered  if  Deb- 
orah herself  was  better  suited.  There  were 
many  hours  when  the  sick  man  must  be  left 
alone  to  silence  and  his  nurses ;  Uncle  Josiah 
had  then  time  to  talk  with  his  niece.  Hitherto 
in  his  short  visits  Miss  Grosvenor  had  been  in 
such  a  whirl  of  gayeties  that  her  uncle  had 
scarcely  been  able  to  have  an  hour  with  her. 
He  remarked  her  listless  way  and  the  profound 
melancholy  on  her  face.  "You  are  mourning 
for  Mrs.  Grosvenor  ?"  he  said :  "  her  death  was 
terribly  sudden  and  she  was  very  little  prepared 
to  meet  it." 

"  I  do  n't  want  you  to  believe  me  to  be  differ- 
ent from  what  I  am,"  said  Deborah.  "  I  am  not 
thinking  about  my  step-mother.  I  do  n't  suppose 
she  and  I  loved  each  other,  and  we  were  very 
little  together.  I  fancy  that  she  was  not  a  wo- 
man to  be  very  fond  even  of  her  own  children  if 
she  had  had  any.  She  was  just  and  polite  to  me, 
and  I  was  respectful  to  her.  But  she  was  a  wo- 
man without  heart,  and — do  you  know,  I  have 
never  yet  been  able  to  decide  if  I  have  any." 

"  You  looked  so  melancholy ;  and  I  saw  only 
that  cause,  unless  your  father's  state  alarms 
you." 


"THE  RICH   MAN  ALSO   DIED."  2$ 

"Oh  father  will  get  well,  I  am  sure!  He 
suffers  less  each  day.  When  he  is  recovered  we 
will  go  to  Europe  together.  As  to  my  looking 
melancholy,  when  did  you  ever  see  me  look 
happy  ?  Unless  it  was  long  ago  when  I  was  too 
small  to  understand  how  little  I  was  to  get  out 
of  the  world." 

"But,  niece,  any  one  would  say  you  got  a 
good  deal  out  of  the  world.  You  are  surrounded 
with  riches." 

"  Why  do  n't  you  say  submerged  in  them  ? 
Water  is  a  good  thing,  indispensable  ;  but  a  man 
may  be  drowned  in  it.  I  have  been  drowned 
in  these  riches;  I  am  stifled,  overwhelmed  by 
riches.  I  have  grown  to  hate  this  glitter  and 
grandeur  and  do-nothingness.  This  splendor 
that  other  people  envy  me  hampers  me  and  tires 
me  out.  I  think  the  poem  about  Miss  Kilman- 
segg  is  one  I  can  heartily  appreciate — at  least 
until  it  comes  to  where  she  marries  that  detest- 
able foreign  count ;  and,  who  knows  ?  I  may 
even  go  as  far  as  that  yet  in  my  weariness." 

"  Riches  have  not  particularly  attracted 
me"  said  Uncle  Josiah ;  "  but  I  am  old  and 
grave,  and  you  are  young  and  gay.  You  sur- 
prise me." 

"  You  would  not  be  surprised  if  you  'd  stop  to 
think  about  it.  In  this  world  it  is,  I  suppose,  a 
pleasure  to  desire  something,  to  want  something, 


s6  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

perhaps  even  to  work  for  something.  I  have 
had  all  my  desires  forestalled ;  all  my  wishes 
were  gratified  before  they  were  half  realized  as 
wishes.  I  never  found  a  chance  to  work  for 
anything.  I  have  been  petted  and  estimated  for 
what  I  have,  not  for  what  I  am.  I  do  not  know 
whether  or  not  there  is  anything  in  me  ;  I  have 
never  had  a  chance  to  find  out.  Would  n't  you 
get  sick  of  life  if  some  one  had  always  stood 
ready  to  button  your  shoes  and  put  on  your  coat, 
if  you  were  never  allowed  to  brush  your  own 
hair  or  to  be  left  to  your  own  resources  for  an 
hour?  I  have  come  to  hate  my  multitude  of 
gowns,  having  always  half  a  dozen  to  be  forced 
to  choose  from  for  every  occasion,  and  always 
more  got  before  there  is  anything  wrong  with 
the  ones  I  have,  only  the  people  have  seen  them 
a  time  or  two.  I  have  read  of  girls  who  have 
had  to  plan  and  manage  to  get  a  gown,  were 
forced  to  take  care  of  it  and  repair  it  and  make 
it  over  and  respect  it  as  a  valuable  possession. 
I  should  think  there  would  be  some  pleasure  in 
that." 

"  As  to  the  multitude  of  wasted,  idle  gowns," 
said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  what  seems  to  me  painful 
about  them  is,  that  the  price  of  one  is  often 
more  than  a  whole  year's  living  to  some  other 
girl ;  and  while  you  have  gowns  to  burden  you, 
your  sister  maidens  go  perhaps  in  rags,  or  are 


"THE   RICH   MAN   ALSO   DIED."  2JT 

cold,  suffering  for  a  mere  sufficiency  of  gar- 
ments." 

"I  do  n't  know  anything  about  that,"  said 
Miss  Grosvenor. 

"What  else  do  you  hate  beside  the  gowns?" 
asked  her  uncle. 

"  I  have  hinted  it  to  you  already.  This  hav- 
ing nothing  to  do,  this  being  of  no  value  to 
myself  or  any  one  except  for  the  money  in  my 
purse,  with  nothing  to  do  for  myself  or  for  any 
one  else.  I  don't  even  dress  myself,  because 
there  is  the  maid.  I  live  purposeless,  as  a  dead 
leaf  drifting  on  the  wind.  Why,  uncle,  I  have 
envied  shop-girls,  working-girls,  girls  I  have 
seen  going  out  to  do  some  daily  work  for  bread. 
They  have  something  to  go  and  come  for ;  they 
look  in  earnest ;  they  have  a  purpose  ;  they  walk 
quickly  along,  going  they  know  where,  while  I 
sit  in  the  carriage  because  I  am  tired  of  sitting 
in  the  house,  and  the  carriage  goes  where  the 
coachman  chooses  to  drive  or  where  some  one 
tells  him  to  take  me.  I  don't  play  or  sing,  be- 
cause the  professionals  do  it  better ;  I  have  read 
novels  until  I  am  sick  of  make  -  believe ;  the 
pleasures  that  were  new  and  amusing  when  I 
first  entered  society  have  become  bores.  Some- 
times I  wish  I  were  a  laundress  or  a  seamstress, 
with  half  a  dozen  hungry  little  children  to  be 
responsible  for  and  work  for  and  care  for — and 


28  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

to  care  for  me.  Who  has  ever  cared  much  for 
me  ?  Father,  since  he  has  been  sick,  looks  as  if 
he  did  sometimes." 

"  You  are  not  obliged  to  live  in  this  way," 
said  Uncle  Josiah.  "  Riches  bring  responsibili- 
ties. The  world  is  full  of  the  poor  and  the 
suffering  to  be  helped.  All  your  money  and  all 
your  leisure  are  trusts  to  you  from  God,  to  be 
used  in  his  service.  Our  Master  pleased  not 
himself,  but  went  about  doing  good.  Why 
should  not  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  good  to  do,"  said  Deb- 
orah. "  I  should  have  been  cheated  and  imposed 
upon  on  every  hand  ;  the  unworthy  would  have 
made  prey  of  me,  and  the  worthy  I  should  never 
have  found.  My  friends  would  have  been  sur- 
prised at  me  and  called  me  cranky  and  singular  ; 
and  I  should  have  made  myself  conspicuous." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  replied  her  uncle,  "that 
you  are  regarding  entirely  the  opinions  of  hu- 
man beings,  and  not  at  all  the  judgment  of 
God." 

"  Perhaps  so.  That  was  the  way  I  was 
brought  up.  '  What  will  people  think,'  '  What 
will  the  world  say  ?'  that  was  measure  for  me. 
'  It  looks  well,'  '  It  is  the  fashion,'  these  were 
reasons." 

"  At  twenty-one  life  is  mostly  before  you ; 
waste  no  more  years." 


"THE   RICH   MAN  ALSO  DIED."  29 

"  If  I  were  poor,"  sighed  Miss  Grosvenor,  "  I 
might  do  something.  As  I  am,  I  shall,  I  sup- 
pose, go  on  as  I  have.  I  sit  down  to  a  luxurious 
table  to  food  for  which  I  have  no  appetite,  and 
when  I  think  at  all,  I  think,  '  Perhaps  plain  food, 
earned,  would  be  good  to  eat.'  I  live  like  one  of 
my  orchids  in  a  hot-house.  How  would  it  feel 
to  stand  in  the  bracing  air  of  poverty?  I  who 
have  never  done  an  hour's  work,"  and  she  held 
out  a  soft  small  white  hand,  "  feel  some  days  as 
if  work  were  the  only  thing  worth  living  for.  I 
think  one  would  respect  a  dollar  that  was  the 
result  of  one's  own  toil.  Why  has  my  father 
toiled  like  a  galley-slave  all  his  life,  that  I,  his 
daughter,  might  be  a  do-nothing?" 

"  Child,  you  become  philosophic,"  said  Uncle 
Josiah. 

Uncle  Josiah  returned  to  his  brother's  room. 
Dives  was  asleep  and  Nurse  Agnes  Jamieson  was 
sitting  waiting  in  a  deep  window  of  the  hall. 
Uncle  Josiah  knew  her  worth,  and  he  sat  down 
beside  her  to  consult  with  her. 

"  I  do  n't  know  what  to  make  of  Miss  Gros- 
venor," he  said. 

"  The  lassie  is  her  guid  gran'mither  a'  ower 
again  an'  she  were  not  swathed  an'  bun'led  up 
in  her  riches  so  she  couldna  stir  heart,  han',  nor 
foot,"  said  Agnes.  "  She  has  by  nature  the 
strong  mind  an'  the  firm  han'  and  the  true  and 


30  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

tender  heart,  but  a'  has  been  smothered  an* 
buried  deep  in  warldly  ways  an'  vanity  and 
riches.  It  is  na  for  me  to  direct  the  ways  of 
Providence ;  but  it  does  seem  to  me,  Maister 
Josiah,  that  if  instead  o'  takin'  her  father,  the 
Lord  had  clean  taken  awa'  her  fortune,  an'  made 
a  poor  woman  o'  her,  she  !d  'a'  had  a  chance  to 
show  what  she  is  made  o'.  Ye  ken,  Maister  Jo- 
siah, that  she  is  no  happy  nor  content ;  there  is 
aye  an  unsatisfied  longin*  in  her :  she  feels  stri- 
vin's  an'  rebellions  aboot  she  kens  na  what. 
The  florists  tell  ye,  sir,  aboot  plants  bein'  root- 
bound,  or  pot-bound,  so  they  canna  thrive  ;  Miss 
Deborah  has  been  root-bound  a'  her  life.  She 
wasna  made  to  find  her  satisfaction  in  trifles: 
she  was  formed  for  a  wide  scope,  an'  they  ha' 
narrowed  her  doon  to  self-servin',  an'  she  canna 
be  content.  Gie  her  a  chance,  an'  ye  'd  see  her 
gran'mither  ower  again !" 

Uncle  Josiah  wondered  if  this  were  true. 
Did  his  brother  see  this  ?  Nearing  death,  Dives 
had  deep  searchings  of  heart.  He  realized  that 
he  had  spent  his  strength  in  vain,  and  his  labor 
for  that  which  satisfieth  not.  How  very  worth- 
less seemed  all  those  things  which  he  had  pur- 
sued with  consuming  zeal ;  how  large  and  solemn 
looked  eternity ;  how  few  if  any  sheaves  had  he 
to  carry  with  him  to  the  Lord  of  the  harvest ! 
"  Thou  fool,  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee ; 


"THE   RICH    MAN   ALSO   DIED."  31 

then  whose  shall  be  all  those  things  which  thou 
possessedst  ?"  These  words  seemed  written  by 
a  mysterious  hand  on  the  walls  of  his  room,  and 
like  Belshazzar  he  was  sore  afraid. 

Whose  should  those  things  be  ?  His  daugh- 
ter's. And  would  they  make  her  any  better  or 
happier  ?  He  feared  not.  He  realized  now  that 
she  was  not  a  useful  or  happy  girl,  and  this 
great  fortune  would  make  her  a  prey  to  sharp- 
ers. He  said  to  his  brother,  "  When  I  was  a  boy 
I  read  a  poem  about  a  girl  who  had  a  golden 
leg ;  I  wish  I  knew  what  it  was.  I  think  it 
meant  a  great  deal." 

"  It  was  Hood's  '  Miss  Kilmansegg,'  "  said 
Uncle  Josiah,  "  and  it  does  mean  a  great  deal.  I 
will  bring  the  book  and  read  it  to  you."  So  Un- 
cle Josiah  got  the  book  from  the  library  and 
slowly  read  the  story  of  the  heiress  to  Dives. 
Then  he  turned  a  few  leaves  and  read  "  The  Song 
of  the  Shirt"  and  then  "The  Bridge  of  Sighs." 
Then  silence  fell  in  the  room  a  while.  "  Bro- 
ther," said  Uncle  Josiah,  "was  it  worth  your  toil, 
the  slavery  of  body,  brain,  and  soul,  to  make  of 
Deborah  a  Miss  Kilmansegg  ?  '  The  Song  of 
the  Shirt,'  'The  Bridge  of  Sighs,'  tell  you  of 
other  women  and  girls  who  toil  and  suffer  and 
die  unhelped.  Why  was  not  your  child  taught 
that  the  very  fact  of  wealth  and  leisure  gave 
her  responsibility  towards  and  for  these?" 


32  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Dives  groaned. 

Later  in  the  day  Deborah  came  into  the 
room  and  found  the  book  lying  on  the  bed. 
"  Read  to  me,"  said  Dives.  Deborah  turned 
over  the  pages.  Here  was  a  poem  new  to  her. 
It  might  be  light  and  pleasing,  fit  for  a  sick 
man's  ear — "  The  Lady's  Dream."  Deborah  was 
a  good  reader  by  nature — not  by  education,  for 
she  had  no  true  education.  Her  inner  sympa- 
thies, her  deep  heart  of  hearts,  came  out  in  her 
reading.  The  reading  told  of  a  wealth  of  hid- 
den emotion  and  power  of  which  no  one  knew. 
She  forgot  as  she  read  that  the  poem  was  very 
different  from  what  she  had  expected.  She 
thrilled  her  father  and  herself  and  Uncle  Josiah 
as  she  read : 

"  Alas  !  I  have  walked  through  life 

Too  heedless  where  I  trod ; 
Nay,  helping  to  trample  my  fellow-worm 

And  fill  the  burial  sod, 
Forgetting  that  even  a  sparrow  falls 
Not  unmarked  of  God. 

"  The  wounds  I  might  have  healed ! 

The  human  sorrow  and  smart ! 
And  yet  it  was  never  in  my  soul 

To  play  so  ill  a  part ; 
But  evil  is  wrought  by  want  of  thought 

As  well  as  want  of  heart." 

She  closed  the  book.  "Father!  I  am  that 
lady ;  that  has  been  my  life  until  now,  and  so  I 


"THE  RICH   MAN  ALSO   DIED."  33 

suppose  it  will  continue  to  be  until  the  end. 
Hardly  worth  living  for,  is  it  ?  I  am  like  the 
Lady  of  Shalott,  weaving  an  idle  web  of  colors 
gay,  and  grown  half  sick  of  shadows." 

She  went  away.  The  brothers  looked  at 
each  other. 

"  The  Lady  of  Shalott  left  her  web  and  left 
her  loom,"  said  Uncle  Josiah.  "She  left  the 
unreal  for  the  real,  the  shadow  for  substance." 

"  I  have  made  mistakes  which  it  is  too  late 
to  rectify,"  said  Dives. 

"My  brother,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "perhaps 
God  has  set  you  here,  aside  from  the  business 
cares  of  the  world,  here  in  the  strong  light  of 
eternity,  where  you  can  estimate  the  true  value 
of  things  that  perish  in  the  using ;  and  perhaps 
you  can  still  save  your  child  from  the  dangers 
that  are  about  her." 

"  Last  night,"  said  Mr.  Grosvenor,  "  I  had  a 
dream.  I  was  between  sleeping  and  waking, 
thinking  of  these  things,  and  in  a  dream  or 
vision  I  saw  a  hand  reached  out  of  heaven  which 
crumbled,  like  a  house  built  of  cards,  all  this 
great  fortune  I  have  risked  so  much  to  gain ! 
And  then  I  saw  my  child  shaking  off  golden 
chains  and  holding  up  empty  hands  to  heaven, 
and  a  light  shone  on  her  face,  and  I  saw  that  she 
was  a  strong  and  loving  woman,  and  she  ran 
with  patience  the  race  set  before  her,  towards  a 

Mr.  Grosvcno.-'s  Daughter.        3 


34  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

goal  which  I  could  not  see,  but  which  shed  upon 
her  path  an  ever-growing  light." 

"  Your  dream  was  woven  of  our  talk,  of  your 
thoughts  for  Deborah,  and  the  words  of  our  pas- 
tor, when  he  read  and  prayed  with  you  yester- 
day. Yet  it  may  be  God's  lesson  to  you,  although 
we  know  of  what  it  was  woven." 

"  There  is  more  to  tell  you,  brother.  My 
\vindows  were  open  here,  and  in  that  deep  si- 
lence just  before  the  morning  twilight,  while  all 
about  me  were  sleeping,  I  heard  two  women 
walking  by  and  talking  ;  and  their  words  came 
to  me  clearly  on  the  night  air.  One  said,  '  I 
should  be  afraid  to  go  out  of  this  world  bur- 
dened with  the  responsibility  of  millions.  I 
should  be  afraid  that  when  the  Judge  asked  me 
how  I  had  used  my  stewardship  I  must  hang 
my  head  for  shame.' 

" '  But  if  with  the  millions/  said  the  other, 
'  he  had  increased  the  grace,  and  you  could  say, 
"  Lord,  thy  talent  hath  gained  ten,"  then  you 
would  hear  the  words,  "  Well  done !"  Perhaps 
they  spoke  of  me." 

"  The  great  banker  Wiltson  was  found  dead 
in  his  private  office  yesterday,"  said  Uncle  Jo- 
siah.  "  I  think  they  spoke  of  him." 

"  Perhaps ;  to  his  enormous  fortune  my 
wealth  is  but  small,  but  as  those  women  spoke,  I 
thought  that  before  my  Judge  I  must  hang  my 


"THE  RICH   MAN  ALSO  DIED."  35 

head  for  shame  of  unused  talents,  and  I  asked 
God  to  give  me  light  for  my  child,  so  that  she 
should  hear,  '  Well  done.'  Her  mother,  her 
grandmother,  are,  I  am  sure,  in  the  city  that 
hath  foundations.  Have  I  lived  to  forge  bars  to 
keep  my  daughter  out?" 

"  Brother,"  said  Josiah,  "  have  courage ;  God 
will  find  a  way." 

After  that,  great  peace  'fell  on  Mr.  Grosve- 
nor's  heart,  and  concerning  Deborah  he  rested. 
One  evening  he  took  his  brother's  hand.  "  You 
will  stand  by  my  dear  girl,  watch  over  her  in 
her  strange  way — the  way  which  God  has  found 
for  her  ?  Be  to  her  father  and  mother,  and  do 
not  let  a  hair  of  her  head  be  injured !" 

"  That  is  as  God  wills,"  said  Josiah ;  "  I  prom- 
ise to  do  my  best." 

"She  will  be  tried,"  said  the  dying  father, 
"  tried  as  by  fire,  cast  into  a  crucible." 

"  And  He  who  sits  beside  the  crucible  will 
one  day  see  His  own  image  reflected  there,"  said 
Josiah  firmly. 

"God  grant  it!  That  indeed  is  worth  the 
fires !" 

In  these  months — they  were  three — Deborah 
and  her  father  had  at  last  become  acquainted ; 
they  had  grown  sacredly  dear  to  each  other; 
Deborah  had  discovered  that  she  had  a  heart. 

That  the  earth  may  receive  seed  and  bring 


36  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

forth  harvests,  it  is  in  the  spring-time  torn  with 
the  ploughshare  and  made  soft  with  showers. 
So  oftentimes  the  heart,  which  is  as  an  arid,  fal- 
low field,  is  rent  by  loss  and  sorrow  and  receives 
the  rain  of  tears,  and  lo,  harvests  rise. 

The  three  months  were  ended,  and  Mr.  Gros- 
venor  was  carried  to  his  grave. 

"  I  have  lost  in  my  father  my  all,"  said  Deb- 
orah. 

She  and  Uncle  Josiah  were  sitting  in  the 
library,  in  the  twilight,  and  without  the  autumn 
rain  dripped  slowly;  the  cold  drops  seemed  to 
be  falling  on  Deborah's  heart  when  she  realized 
that  they  were  pattering  upon  her  father's  grave ! 

"Yes,  Deborah,"  answered  her  uncle,  "and 
what  you  say  is  truer  than  you  think.  I  have 
something  to  tell  you,  something  that  may  be 
a  hard  and  bitter  surprise.  Perhaps  it  will  fall 
upon  you  less  keenly  if  I  tell  it  to  you  now,  in 
an  hour  when  the  loss  of  your  father  makes  all 
other  losses  seem  trivial.  My  child,  can  you 
realize  that  you  are  a  poor  woman  ?  Aside  from 
your  little  personal  possessions,  your  clothing, 
ornaments,  jewels,  and  some  furniture  especially 
given  to  you  in  other  years,  you  have  not  a  dol- 
lar that  you  can  call  your  own." 

"What,"  said  Deborah,  "what,  uncle!  My 
father  was  rich !" 

"He  was;  but,  child,  in   a  thousand  ways 


"THE   RICH   MAN  ALSO   DIED."  37 

riches  can  change  hands,  and  his,  as  it  might  be 
by  one  stroke  of  the  pen,  by  one  revolution  of 
business,  left  you  with  nothing.  My  dear,  is 
this  too  hard  to  hear  ?" 

Deborah  rose  up  and  drew  a  deep  breath. 
She  slowly  paced  up  and  down  the  room ;  she 
stopped  before  a  long  mirror,  and  by  the  red 
light  in  the  grate  saw  herself  dimly  reflected 
there,  a  shape  in  black.  What,  had  it  come  to 
this,  that  Deborah  had  but  herself  alone  ?  Deb- 
orah who  had  always  been  counted  with  the  mil- 
lions— Deborah,  divested  of  her  millions,  stand- 
ing alone  ?  As  yet  she  could  not  comprehend  it. 


38  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  OTHER  HALF. 

"  Into  this  world  we  come  like  ships 
Launched  from  the  docks  and  stocks  and  slips 

For  fortune  fair  or  fatal ; 
And  one  little  craft  is  cast  away 
In  its  very  first  trip  in  Babbicome  Bay, 

While  another  rides  safe  at  Port  Natal." 

THE  announcement  of  her  changed  circum- 
stances for  a  moment  startled  and  confused  Mis?! 
Grosvenor.  She  did  not  comprehend  how  it 
could  be.  But  she  had  never  learned  the  worth 
of  money  by  lacking  it.  She  had  not  been  con- 
tented, and  she  laid  her  discontent  to  the  riches 
that  surrounded  her.  Money  had  not  made  her 
happy,  let  it  go!  She  looked  at  her  uncle. 
"  Do  you  mean  that  I  shall  have  to  give  up  the 
house  and  the  servants  and  all  that  is  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

"  I  do  n't  know  that  I  shall  care  much.  I  should 
have  had  to  engage  a  chaperone,  and  no  doubt 
she  would  have  bored  me.  Where  shall  I  live  ? 
Shall  I  get  board  at  the  Belmont?  or  at  some 
private  boarding-house?  I  believe  there  are 
boarding-houses  right  over  here  on  the  avenue." 

There  was  once  a  queen  of  France  who  said. 


THE  OTHER  HALF.  39 

when  she  heard  that  the  people  were  starving, 
that  if  she  were  in  their  place  she  would 
rather  eat  bread  and  cheese  than  starve.  Miss 
Grosvenor  was  about  as  wise  as  her  majesty. 
Poverty,  to  her,  meant,  in  its  deepest  depths, 
boarding  at  fifteen  or  eighteen  dollars  a  week. 
Uncle  Josiah  shook  his  head. 

"  My  child,  you  have  no  money  to  pay  your 
board  at  a  hotel  or  a  fashionable  place.  When 
I  say  you  have  nothing  I  mean  that  you  will 
have  to  live  in  a  poor  way  and  earn  your  own 
living.  I  too  am  poor.  Whatever  I  had  has 
gone  with  my  brother's  fortune,  except  the 
merest  trifle. 

"  However,  we  will  remain  together  here  in 
the  city.  I  shall  be  a  friend  and  protector  for 
you  and  you  will  be  a  daughter  for  me.  I  can 
earn  a  little  in  my  own  behalf.  As  to  this  es- 
tablishment, the  sooner  we  give  it  up  the  better. 
The  law  allows  you  something ;  you  will  do  well 
to  look  through  the  house  with  me  and  select 
what  you  had  better  keep.  Also,  you  have  a 
right  to  your  own  clothing,  jewels,  and  all  that 
has  been  personally  given  to  you." 

"Are  there  any  debts  unpaid?"  asked  Miss 
Grosvenor. 

"  I  think  there  will  be  only  the  doctor's  bill 
and  the  funeral  expenses." 

"  If  I  am  a  poor  woman  my  jewels,  dresses,  and 


4O  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

laces  will  be  out  of  place  for  me.  I  will  sell  them 
and  pay  those  bills  and  put  up  a  plain  monu- 
ment in  our  cemetery  lot  for  my  father." 

Nurse  Agnes  Jamieson  knocked  at  the  door 
and  entered. 

"  Have  ye  told  her  aboot  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"  That  I  have  no  money  ?"  said  Deborah. 
"  Yes.  I  am  glad  my  father  had  money  as  long  as 
he  lived,  and  I  hope  he  did  not  worry  about  me." 

"  No,  he  did  not,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  worry ;  other  people 
make  their  living,  and  I  suppose  I  can." 

"  My  lassie,  I  ken  there  is  guid  metal  in 
you.  You  will  come  oot  o'  the  furnace  like  gold 
tried  in  the  fire.  Here  I  stan'  to  say  that  I 
bided  wi'  your  gran'mither  a'  her  life,  an'  so 
will  I  bide  wi'  you  till  God  calls  me.  Here  noo, 
my  dear  lass,  I  hae  a  little  annuity  fro'  yer  gran'- 
mither, a  hunner  a  year.  That  will  pay  my 
rent  o'  a  room,  an  I  can  bide  wi  ye  an'  Maister 
Josiah.  I  '11  do  the  wash  for  ye,  an'  I  '11  eat  o' 
your  bite  an'  your  sup.  We  '11  a*  be  thegither." 

Nurse  Jamieson  had  never  showed  for  the 
stately  and  cold  Miss  Grosvenor  the  devotion 
which  she  now  testified  for  the  disinherited 
Deborah.  Deborah  was  touched.  She  laid  her 
hand  on  the  dame's  shoulder.  "  Surely  I  can 
take  care  of  you,  Jamieson.  And,  uncle,  if  I  can, 
as  you  say,  keep  some  things  from  the  house,  I 


THE  OTHER  HALF.  4! 

will  keep  all  that  is  in  Jamieson's  room,  so  that 
she  will  not  find  too  great  a  change  when  she 
goes  with  me." 

"  I  think,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  that  as  Nurse 
Agnes  understands  more  of  practical  life  than 
you  do,  she  had  better  select  the  articles  that 
shall  be  saved.  Our  first  affair  will  be  a  home." 

"  When  I  was  in  Paris,"  said  Deborah,  "  I  re- 
member there  was  a  quarter  there  called  the  '  St. 
Lazare,'  or  the  Lazarus  Quarter.  I  think  it  was 
only  for  the  poor  folks.  Is  there  no  Quarter  St. 
Lazarus  in  this  city  ?  Let  us  find  it  and  go  there, 
if  it  is  there  that  we  belong." 

"  There  is  Lazarus  Quarter  enough,"  said  her 
uncle,  "  but  very  little  Saint  about  it." 

"  We  maun  help  to  make  it  mair  saintly,  by 
the  grace  o'  God,"  said  Nurse  Jamieson. 

Deborah  and  her  uncle  walked  slowly 
through  the  great,  silent,  darkened  house.  Miss 
Grosvenor  pointed  to  some  things  as  articles 
which,  if  she  had  a  fitting  place,  she  would  have 
really  liked  to  keep.  Some  of  the  articles  had 
associations  connected  with  them  to  which  she 
clung.  "  I  shall  be  sorry  to  part  with  those,"  she 
said  ;  "  for  the  rest  I  do  not  care  at  all.  Let  them 
go ;  they  only  remind  me  of  weariness,  hollow- 
ness,  and  sham." 

Then  in  looking  over  her  jewelry,  a  mass  of 
splendid  and  useless  ornaments,  she  selected  a 


42  MR.  GROSVEXOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

few  things  which  had  belonged  to  her  own  mo- 
ther, and  the  first  watch,  given  her  when  she 
was  ten  years  old,  by  her  father.  "  I  want  to  keep 
these." 

"  Very  good,"  said  her  uncle  ;  "  the  watch 
you  will  need,  and  it  is  not  a  dangerously  valua- 
ble one.  The  jewels  are  not  fit  for  the  Lazarus 
Quarter.  I  will  put  them  in  the  hands  of  a 
banker  whom  I  know  in  the  country,  and  he 
will  take  care  of  them  for  you.  You  must  save 
out  also  the  best  sewing-machine." 

"  A  sewing-machine  !"  cried  Miss  Grosvenor. 
"  Why  I  never  sewed  a  yard  on  one  !  I  do  n't 
know  how  to  run  it.  What  use  will  it  be  ?" 

"You  will  have  to  learn  to  run  it,  or  how 
will  you  get  your  clothes  made  ?  Remember  you 
are  poor.  And  by  the  way,  Deborah,  how  do 
you  expect  to  make  a  living  ?" 

"  I  do  n't  know,"  said  Deborah  blankly. 

"  Can  you  teach  music,  French,  painting, 
kindergarten  ?" 

"  No !  I  know  nothing  of  all  that,"  cried 
Deborah. 

"  Can  you  keep  books  ?  Can  you  make  bon- 
nets or  gowns?" 

"  No,  of  course  not.  In  fact,  I  know  nothing 
useful." 

"  Suppose  it  was  work  or  starve,  what  could 
you  do?" 


THE   OTHER   HALF.  43 

"  I  think,"  said  Deborah,  after  a  little  consid- 
eration, "  that  I  might  be  a  '  fitter  on '  in  some 
big  establishment,  if  they  thought  it  would 
bring  a  crowd  to  see  the  millionaire  Miss  Gros- 
venor  earning  her  bread ;  or  I  could  teach  dan- 
cing, if  I  could  find  a  place.  Absolutely  that  is 
all  I  know.  I  do  n't  care  to  do  either  of  those 
things.  I  want  at  last  to  do  something  useful. 
Uncle,  there  has  been  a  grand  mistake,  that  a 
person  possessed  of  all  natural  faculties,  time, 
and  money,  has  gone  through  twenty-one  years 
without  learning  one  -useful  thing !  I  was  read- 
ing in  my  Bible  this  morning  about  the  barren 
fig-tree.  I  am  that  barren  tree  ;  I  am  sure  of  it. 
No  good  works  have  grown  in  my  life,  no  graces 
in  my  heart.  I  wonder  it  was  not  said  of  me, 
'  Cut  it  down.  Why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?'  " 

"  It  was  said  rather  to  dig  about  the  roots, 
and  prune  and  trim  it,  and  see  if  it  would  not 
bear  a  noble  crop.  The  digging  and  pruning 
may  go  hard  with  you,  Deborah.  You  may 
have  a  bitter  apprenticeship  in  learning  how 
the  other  half  of  the  world  lives." 

"  I  saw  a  tree  once,"  said  Miss  Grosvenor, 
"  that  had  been  killed  by  having  a  very  luxuriant 
vine  grow  over  it.  The  vine  had  strangled  the 
tree.  Perhaps  I  shall  have  a  better  chance  with- 
out any  money.  What  is  that  about  riches  laid 
lip  to  the  owner's  hurt  ?" 


44  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  It  is  indeed  said  that  riches  laid  up  for  selfish 
enjoyment  are  for  one's  hurt,  also  that  the  '  love 
of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil.'  But  the  pos- 
session of  money  may  be  a  great  blessing  when 
riches  are  consecrated  to  God  and  used  in  his 
service ;  then  they  bring  joy  and  largeness  of 
heart  to  their  possessor  and  to  those  whom  he 
has  wisely  helped. 

"  It  seems  strange  to  me,  Deborah,  that  in  a 
city  where  there  are  many  godly  people  who 
are  rich,  and  who  consecrate  their  time,  money, 
influence,  all  that  they  have,  to  the  service  of  God 
and  their  fellows,  you  have  never  met  any  of 
them  or  so  mingled  with  them  as  to  be  stim- 
ulated and  helped  upward  by  their  example. 
Why  is  it?" 

"  Because  we  were  so  worldly  that  I  sup- 
pose they  thought  no  good  could  be  done  to 
us  or  by  us.  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  you  know,  was 
rather  opposed  to  religion  and  religious  people  ; 
she  seldom  went  to  church,  and  was  not  very 
cordial  to  our  pastor.  Our  church  is  called,  I 
think,  the  most  worldly  in  all  the  city.  I  think 
our  way  of  life  and  our  pleasures  are  such  as 
good  people  generally  condemn.  The  Christian 
Temperance  women  came  about  us  a  little,  but 
Mrs.  Grosvenor  was  determined  to  use  wine  at 
her  parties  and  called  them  cranks  for  opposing 
it.  The  Foreign  Missionary  Society  came  after 


THE  OTHER  HALF.  45 

us  a  few  times,  to  get  us  to  help  ;  but  she  said 
that  she  did  n't  believe  in  Foreign  Missions ; 
there  were  heathen  enough  at  home." 

"  Well,  what  did  you  do  for  the  home  hea- 
then ?" 

"  Nothing :  she  said  charity  pauperized  peo- 
ple, and  if  they  were  not  shiftless  and  lazy  they 
would  not  be  in  need.  Besides,  father  was  lib- 
eral, and  he  always  put  his  check  in  the  plate 
for  fifty  or  a  hundred  dollars  at  each  collection." 

"Is  it  right  to  lay  the  blame  all  on  Mrs. 
Grosvenor?  You  had  money  in  your  own  purse  ; 
your  time  was  at  your  own  disposal ;  you  were 
capable,  as  a  reasonable  being,  of  forming  your 
own  opinions." 

"  I  know  I  have  been  to  blame ;  and  now  it 
is  too  late  to  mend  it.  I  wake  up  to  know  that  I 
am  poor  and  must  work  for  myself ;  now  I  can- 
not give  or  work  for  others,  even  if  I  wish  it. 
Some  day  I  may  wish  I  had  my  fortune  back,  to 
make  better  use  of  it." 

"  I  dare  say  you  may,"  said  Uncle  Josiah 
dryly.  "  Like  flows  to  like  in  this  world,  my 
child,  and  it  seems  to  me  if  you  had  had  a  real 
love  of  God  and  hunger  for  his  presence,  you 
would  have  affiliated  more  with  his  people." 

"  But,  uncle,  I  had  no  such  love  and  hunger 
for  God.  I  have  so  little  soul-life  that  some- 
times  I  suspect  I  have  none  at  all." 


46  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Dissatisfaction  with  that  state  is  however  a 
hopeful  sign,"  he  replied. 

A  few  days  after  this  Uncle  Josiah  told  Deb- 
orah that  he  had  found  a  home  for  them  in  the 
Lazarus  Quarter  —  three  rooms  in  the  second 
story  of  a  house  in  a  quiet  court.  "  I  have  or- 
dered a  man  to  put  two  coats  of  whitewash  on 
the  walls,  and  a  washerwoman  who  lives  on  the 
third  floor  is  to  give  them  a  thorough  scrubbing 
with  carbolic  soap  and  lye.  After  that  I  shall 
put  three  coats  of  paint  on  the  floors  and  wood- 
work. I  had  better  spend  some  of  my  little  in 
putting  the  rooms  into  as  good  hygienic  order  as 
possible.  There  is  water  in  the  largest  room, 
and  they  have  the  sun." 

"  Three  rooms  to  live  in  for  three  of  us ! — to 
eat  and  sleep  and  all  that !"  cried  Deborah. 
"  But  perhaps  we  are  to  take  our  meals  out." 

"  Nurse  Jamieson  will  cook  them  for  us  in  the 
largest  room,  which  will  be  our  dining-room, 
sitting-room,  and  kitchen,  and  I  shall  sleep  there 
on  a  lounge,  which  can  be  turned  into  a  bed. 
One  of  the  other  rooms  will  be  for  you,  and  one 
for  Jamieson." 

"  I  never  heard  of  anything  so  dreadful,"  said 
Deborah  frankly. 

"Why,  child,  often  a  whole  family  lives  in 
one  room.  All  the  other  families  in  that  house 
have  only  two  rooms  apiece,  and  some  of  the 


THE   OTHER  HALF.  47 

families  have  six  or  seven  members.  Three 
rooms  for  three  is  luxury." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  put  a  little  gold-paper  on 
the  walls?  Isn't  whitewash  horrible  stuff?" 
said  Deborah. 

"  It  is  very  healthful  stuff,  and  I  put  it  on  the 
walls  as  a  sanitary  measure.  Besides,  we  are 
now  done  with  gold." 

"  Three  rooms — whitewash !"  said  Deborah, 
confounded. 

"  I  am  going  myself  to  put  the  paint  on," 
said  Uncle  Josiah  very  cheerfully,  "  to-morrow 
morning  ;  suppose  you  go  with  me.  Borrow  an 
apron  from  Nurse  Jamieson,  and  take  a  pair  of 
old  gloves  with  you.  Perhaps  you  may  find 
something  to  do,  and  you  can  get  acquainted 
with  your  neighbors." 

Next  morning  Deborah  set  off  with  her  uncle 
in  tolerably  good  spirits.  They  found  a  big, 
blue-eyed,  fair-skinned  Swede  woman  washing 
the  last  of  the  windows.  "  I  could  not  get  done 
the  last  night,"  she  said,  "  my  baby  was  so  cross. 
He  cuts  his  toofs." 

"  This  is  the  young  lady  who  is  going  to  live 
here  with  me  and  our  old  friend,  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 

The  woman  gave  Deborah  a  critical  survey. 
"  Poor  young  lady,  it  will  not  suit  she  at  all.  I 
am  sorry  she  has  lost  her  money." 


48  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  I  did  not  care  for  it,"  said  Deborah  calmly. 

"  Ach  !  what  an  idea  !  But  you  will  care  for 
it  now  it 's  gone,  much  /" 

"  I  do  n't  see  that  these  rooms  have  any  bath- 
room," said  Miss  Grosvenor,  still  in  the  queenly 
condition  of  being  unable  to  understand  the 
status  of  the  masses  and  their  surroundings. 

The  washerwoman  laughed  openly.  "  The 
like  of  we,  miss,  never  has  bath-rooms.  If  we 
have  a  bit  of  a  bowl,  or  perhaps  the  wash-tub, 
and  the  matter  of  a  curtain,  so  we  can  take  a 
wash,  we  get  on  well  indeed.  But  here,  why 
you  have  a  room  all  to  yourself !" 

A  room !  Miss  Grosvenor  had  always  had 
undisputed  possession  of  three,  besides  the  gen- 
eral use  of  the  house  and  the  constant  occupa- 
tion of  the  drawing-rooms.  She  sighed  and 
gave  up  the  problem  of  how  people  lived.  Un- 
cle Josiah  was  painting. 

"  I  believe  I  could  do  that,"  said  Deborah 
with  interest. 

"  I  believe  you  could  :  take  a  brush  and  a  can 
and  try.  See  how  I  handle  the  brush.  Don't 
get  the  paint  on  your  apron,  and  don't  drop 
more  than  you  put  on  the  wood.  Try  that  base- 
board." 

Miss  Grosvenor  was  usefully  employed  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life.  There  was  a  clatter  of 
little  feet  and  a  fat  child  came  in.  "  Moder ! 


THE   OTHER   HALF.  49 

The  baby  have  roll  on  his  face,  an  I  des  tan't 
pick  he  up." 

"  Make  your  manners  to  the  lady,  Berta.  I  '11 
come  soon  enough." 

"  Do  you  let  that  little  child  run  on  the 
stairs  alone?  I  should  think  she  would  fall!" 
said  Deborah,  who  had  seen  children  followed 
up  by  nurses  until  they  were  nine  or  ten  years 
old. 

"  You  know  not  much  about  our  ways,  miss," 
said  Mrs.  Werner  with  a  hearty  laugh.  "  That 
leetle  schild  does  all  my  errands,  an'  she  takes 
care  of  the  baby  when  I  work.  I  have  five  older 
ones,  but  one  is  hired  out — she  is  fifteen  ;  and  the 
next  four  goes  to  school,  and  in  vacation  they 
are  cash  boys.  Poor  folks'  children,  miss,  begins 
to  work  young." 

Mrs.  Werner  was  scouring  the  doors  as  she 
spoke.  The  doors  being  open,  Deborah  heard  a 
constant  loud  groaning,  that  now  and  then  rose 
to  little  shrill  cries. 

"What  is  that  dreadful  noise!"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  You  wont  hear  it  in  a  minute,  miss,  when  I 
shuts  the  door,"  said  Mrs.  Werner.  "  It 's  poor 
old  Mrs.  Kegan.  She  has  rheumatiz  that  bad, 
she  just  hollers  and  moans.  Poor  soul,  I  do  pity 
her,  lying  alone.  You  see  when  these  cold, 
chilly  nights  and  mornings  come,  she  do  get 

Mr.  Grosvenor't  Daughter.      'T 


5o  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

mighty  bad,  for  she  has  no  flannels  and  no  blan- 
kets. Summers  she 's  better." 

"Why  doesn't  she  get  some  flannels  and 
blankets,  instead  of  suffering  that  way  ?  or  why 
doesn't  some  one  get  them  for  her?" 

Again  Mrs.  Werner  laughed:  she  found 
Dives'  daughter  a  very  amusing  young  lady. 
"  Why,  miss,  it 's  the  money  ;  flannels  is  so  dear  ! 
She 's  got  no  money  for  it,  and  none  of  us  is  rich 
enough  to  buy  them  for  her,  poor  heart !" 

Then  came  a  gleam  of  sense  to  Dives'  daugh- 
ter. "  I  supposed  that  there  were  people — city 
missionaries  or  charitable  folks  —  to  see  after 
such  cases  and  get  things  for  poor  folks." 

"  Ach  yes,  there  are ;  but  they  are  like  poor 
people's  bread  and  potatoes,  not  enough  to  go 
round  often.  And  they  go  to  the  poorest  parts 
of  the  city  and  to  those  who  apply  at  the  public 
sharities.  Now  here,  miss,  we  are  very  respect- 
able ;  we  are  all  in  regular  work  and  support 
ourselves,  and  our  court  is  very  comfortable  ;  so 
we  none  of  us  ever  go  near  the  sharities,  except 
now  and  then  I  ask  for  extra  work  when  work  is 
slack.  The  people  who  go  about  giving  things 
go  to  the  real  poor  folks  and  the  very  bad 
streets  and  courts." 

More  amazement  on  the  part  of  Miss  Gros- 
venor.  "  What !  Are  there  poorer  people  than 
here — poorer  places  than  this?" 


THE  OTHER  HALF.  5! 

"She  don't  know  much  about  it,  do  she?" 
said  Mrs.  Werner,  appealing  to  Uncle  Josiah. 
"  Why,  miss,  here 's  comfort." 

But  Deborah's  mind  had  gone  back  to  Mrs. 
Kegan.  "  How  long  has  that  poor  creature  been 
suffering  for  flannels?" 

"  She  's  been  pretty  bad  every  winter  for  five 
years,  ever  since  I  came  to  this  house.  I  don't 
move  much,"  said  Mrs.  Werner. 

"  Uncle,  she  has  been  moaning  and  suffering 
for  five  years  for  want  of  flannels,  while  up  in 
one  of  our  attics  there  are  all  kinds  of  woollen 
goods,  wrappers  and  shawls  and  blankets,  and 
no  end  of  things,  just  laid  by  for  no  one.  There 
is  something  very  wrong  in  that." 

"  I  think  there  is"  said  Uncle  Josiah  deci- 
dedly. 

"You  see,  miss,  them  as  has  and  them  as 
wants  do  not  often  get  together,  and  them  as 
goes  round  begging  for  it  are  most  often  greedy 
ones  who  do  n't  deserve,"  said  Mrs.  Werner,  has- 
tening to  explain  matters. 

"  I  think,  uncle,  I  have  a  right  to  what  in  the 
attic  has  ever  been  mine,"  suggested  Deborah. 

"  You  have  a  right  to  all  that  is  in  the  attic,  I 
am  sure." 

The  attic  suddenly  rose  before  Deborah's 
fancy  as  an  Aladdin's  cave.  She  had  gone  up 
there  now  and  then,  looking  for  things  for  pri- 


52  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

vate  theatricals,  when  she  and  her  friends  were 
making  desperate  efforts  to  amuse  themselves. 
Now  the  second-hand  stuff  there  seemed  wealth. 
Flannels!  blankets!  cushions!  toys — so  many 
toys  with  which  she  had  once  played.  She 
thought  this  round-eyed  Werner  mite  would  be 
joyful  over  those  jtoys  and  picture-books.  She 
was  about  to  promise  them  lavishly  when  a 
baby's  scream  sounded  down  the  stairs,  and  Mrs. 
Werner  and  little  Berta  incontinently  disap- 
peared. 

"  Uncle,"  said  Deborah,  picking  up  her  paint- 
brush, "  there  are  oceans  of  toys  in  the  attic  I 
can  give  to  that  child." 

Uncle  Josiah  laughed.  "  Promiscuous  and 
lavish  giving  will  be  as  bad  as  withholding. 
The  children  of  the  poor  are  made  not  for  toys 
but  for  affairs.  One  doll  would  be  wealth  to 
that  child.  It  is  the  sick  children  for  whom 
toys  must  be  kept.  All  those  in  your  attic 
should  long  ago  have  gone  to  the  Children's 
Hospital." 


PURPLE  AND  FINE  LINEN. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

PURPLE  AND  FINE  LINEN. 

"  Not  so  the  infant  Killmansegg : 
She  was  not  born  to  steal  or  beg 

Or  gather  cresses  in  ditches, 
To  plait  the  straw  or  bind  the  shoe, 
Or  sit  all  day  to  hem  or  sew." 

WHEN  the  news  spread  that  the  supposed 
vast  wealth  of  Dives  had  somehow  vanished, 
that  the  house  and  its  splendid  furnishings,  the 
silver  and  the  pictures,  the  horses  and  carriages, 
were  to  go  under  the  hammer  of  the  auctioneer, 
great  was  the  amazement  of  the  golden  friends 
of  golden  hours  who  had  trodden  with  Dives 
and  his  house  the  circle  of  fashionable  pleasures. 

"  Miss  Grosvenor  left  nothing  !  What  will 
she  do  ?" 

"  She  has  that  queer  old  uncle ;  he  may  take 
care  of  her." 

"  They  say  he  is  as  poor  as  she  is." 

"  Dear,  dear !  There  ought  to  be  some  pro- 
vision made  by .  Government  for  suddenly  im- 
poverished young  ladies.  They  are  the  most 
helpless  creatures!  What  can  she  do?  She 
can't  do  anything!  Has  she  talent  for  the 
stage?" 


54  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

44  The  stage !  That  cold,  unbending,  icy,  dis- 
contented girl !  The  idea  of  her  playing  Juliet 
or  Bianca !  And  then,  unless  one  is  a  genius,  a 
prodigious  genius,  the  stage  is  the  work  of  a 
life-time  training.  Why  don't  you  ask  if  she 
cannot  take  to  the  concert  boards  or  the  opera 
at  once,  and  be  a  diva,  like  Patti  ?  And  after 
all,  what  is  there  to  do  for  such  women  ?" 

"Nothing:  she  would  be  refused  even  as 
chambermaid  or  waitress,  without  any  experi- 
ence. Poor  soul.  She  'd  better  be  dead." 

Thus  those  who  had  known  her  and  hovered 
about  her  in  the  days  of  her  prosperity.  They 
were  really  sorry  for  her,  very  sorry — but  they 
did  n't  know  what  to  do  about  it.  They  did  not 
know  how  to  advise  her  or  help  her  ;  and  it  was 
very  wearing  to  see  a  person  in  such  a  hopeless 
case.  If  it  had  been  only  the  death  of  her  pa- 
rents, they  could  have  gone  and  condoled  with  her 
properly,  for  then  she  would  have  had  open  to 
her  the  comfort  that  is  to  be  found  in  travelling 
and  in  becoming  mourning  and  the  distractions 
of  using  her  wealth.  But  what  comfort  can  one 
find  in  poverty  ?  That  situation  is  too  desper- 
ate !  The  dear  five  hundred  left  cards  at  Dives' 
soon-to-be-closed  doors,  and  rolled  away  in  their 
carriages  without  offering  to  call.  Some — 
many — forgot  even  to  leave  cards.  Three  or 
four  gentlemen,  friends  of  Dives,  called  on  Un- 


PURPLE  AND  FINE  LINEN.  55 

cle  Josiah  and  asked  if  they  could  do  anything 
for  Miss  Grosvenor — "  This  was  a  very  sad  case 
indeed." 

Uncle  Josiah  said  he  knew  nothing  that  they 
could  do  just  then  ;  he  did  not  expect  to  let  his 
niece  suffer.  She  would  earn  her  bread,  as 
many  other  women  had  to,  and  possibly  he 
might  some  day  call  on  them  for  a  little  in- 
fluence or  a  recommendation  in  the  way  of 
bread-winning. 

One  old  gentleman  shook  his  head.  "  '  Noth- 
ing in  God's  universe  is  so  helpless,  so  unuttera- 
bly helpless,  as  a  rich  woman,  taught  to  do  noth- 
ing, .suddenly  become  poor.  The  smallest 
birds,  the  butterflies,  the  caterpillars,  that  we 
call  defenceless  and  helpless,  are  less  helpless 
than  she,  because  their  wants  and  needs  are 
less,  and  they  know  how  to  supply  them.  What 
is  there  that  Miss  Grosvenor  has  strength  or 
knowledge  or  aptitude  for?  Nothing.  There 
are  homes  and  refuges  here  and  there  for  old 
ladies  of  fallen  fortunes,  nothing  for  young 
ladies." 

One  or  two  elderly  ladies  called  and  la- 
mented to  Miss  Grosvenor  that  she  had  not  mar- 
ried. "  You  have  refused  so  many  good  offers. 
Now  if  you  were  married,  you  would  be  safe 
even  if  your  father's  fortune  is  lost.  You  had  far 
better  tak^  somebody  now,  and  settle  yourself." 


56  MR.  GROSVENCR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  My  suitors  are  all  gone  with  my  money,"  said 
Deborah.  "  Not  the  face  of  an  eligible  young 
man  has  appeared  since  the  first  hints  of  ruin ! 
I  am  glad  I  am  not  married." 

"  What  a  pity  that  you  have  been  so  cold 
hearted,  Miss  Grosvenor !" 

"  Even  that  is  better  than  marriage  for 
mercenary  motives.  I  think  in  that  respect  I 
have  had  high  ideals,"  smiled  Deborah. 

"  High  ideals  are  well  enough  for  rich  peo- 
ple, but  poor  folks  cannot  indulge  in  them." 

Then  one  old  lady  invited  her  to  come  and 
visit  her  for  a  year ;  another  suggested  that  she 
might  give  her  board  and  clothes,  if  she  acted  as 
reader,  scribe,  and  companion. 

"  I  might  be  thankful  to  take  the  offer,"  said 
Deborah,  "  only  my  uncle  and  I  are  going  to 
stay  together  and  take  care  of  each  other." 

"Oh,  if  your  uncle  is  responsible  for  you !" 
And  the  old  ladies  were  very  much  relieved. 

Among  the  life-long  acquaintances  of  Miss 
Grosvenor  was  one  with  whom  she  had  been 
least  intimate,  Miss  Leila  Stirling.  Miss  Stir- 
ling had  joined  the  church  when  Deborah  did. 
Her  sister  had  been  one  of  those  whose  sudden 
death  in  the  midst  of  festivities  had  called  a 
halt  among  the  golden  youth  who  lived  to  pur- 
sue pleasure.  The  change  at  that  point  in  her 
career  in  Miss  Stirling  had  been  deep  and  last- 


PURPLE  AND  FINE  LINEN.  57 

ing— a  new  life  had  begun  :  her  old  companions 
felt  rebuked  by  the  simplicity  and  devotion  of 
this  newness  of  life  into  which  she  had  passed. 
Some  way  she  was  out  of  harmony  with  many 
of  them.  Delicate  health  and  the  demands 
made  upon  her  time  by  a  bereaved  and  invalid 
mother  had  further  separated  her  from  former 
friends.  She  had  always  seemed  to  cling  to 
Deborah  Grosvenor  and  admire  her,  but  had 
she  not  made  three  calls  to  Deborah's  one,  they 
would  have  lost  sight  of  each  other.  At  the 
first  news  of  Deborah's  loss  of  fortune  Leila 
Stirling  came  to  see  her.  She  was  a  warm- 
hearted, enthusiastic  girl,  overflowing  with  sym- 
pathy. "Dear  Deborah,  you  don't  know  how 
much  I  have  always  loved  you.  You  seemed  to 
me  like  my  sister  that  died.  I  never  dared  show 
you  how  much  I  cared  for  you,  because  I  some- 
how fancied  that  you  did  not  wish  affection.  I 
wish  you'd  come  and  live  with  me,  dear  Deb- 
orah. Mamma  has  plenty  of  money  for  both 
of  us.  She  would  be  better  off  with  another 
daughter.  We  are  going  to  South  France  for 
mamma's  health.  Wont  you  go  with  us  ?  Come ; 
we  will  have  all  things  in  common,  and  you  are 
so  very  much  wiser  and  more  dignified  than  I  am, 
you  will  be  such  a  help  to  me.  Why  I  cannot 
go  away  and  leave  you  here  with  such  changed 
fortune.  What  can  you  do  ?" 


58  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  shall  find  something 
as  others  do." 

"  I  'm  afraid  the  others  do  n't  find  it  always, 
and,  Deborah,  you  are  not  made  for  a  hard  life." 

"I  don't  see  why  I  am  not  made  for  it  as 
much  as  others  are.  I  find  by  studying  the 
matter  that  more  than  half,  yes,  more  than  three- 
quarters,  of  the  whole  number  of  civilized  wo- 
men are  working  women.  Now  I  too  must  be 
a  working  woman  ;  I  belong  to  the  majority." 

"  It  would  be  far  different  if  you  had  been 
brought  up  to  it.  Then  privations  would  by 
habit  have  become  easier,  and  you  would  have 
learned  something  to  do.  Now  you  know  noth- 
ing. I  am  sure,  Deborah,  that  it  is  very  wrong 
to  bring  up  women  as  you  and  I  have  been 
brought  up,  to  know  no  useful  and  proper  way 
of  making  a  living.  We  are  left  perfectly  help- 
less, and  the  mere  accident  of  losing  our  money 
makes  us  beggars  and  miserable.  If  we  felt 
the  serene  independence  of  knowing  something 
to  do,  how  much  stronger  and  better  off  we 
should  be." 

"  Well,  now  I  have  my  chance,  Leila,  and  I 
am  going  to  learn  to  do  something." 

"  Come  to  me,  dear,  while  you  are  learning." 

"  That  would  be  to  go  to  a  life  which  would 
make  useful  learning  impossible.  I  should  go 
to  you  to  drift,  as  I  have  drifted.  No;  now  I 


PURPLE  AND  FINE   LINEN.  59 

shall  learn  to  work  for  myself  and  to  understand 
and  sympathize  with  other  wage-workers." 

"  The  ancient  Hebrews  considered  it  one  of 
the  first  duties  of  a  father  to  see  that  every  one 
of  his  sons  was  taught  a  useful  trade  so  that  he 
could  always  earn  his  own  bread.  Paul,  you 
will  remember,  was' a  tent-maker.  I  wish  parents 
now-a-days  felt  it  a  duty  to  teach  every  daughter 
a  means  of  honorable  self-support.  But,  Deborah, 
if  you  would  come  and  live  with  me  you  would 
still  need  to  do  nothing." 

"  I  believe  I  no  longer  crave  that  exemption 
from  labor.  I  have  already  had  a  glimpse  of 
my  working  sisters.  I  shall  go  down  among 
them  to  learn  how  they  live  and  how  they  suffer. 
The  truth  is,  Leila,  I  have  been  a  heartless  idler 
all  my  life ;  I  did  n't  know  that  I  could  be  any- 
thing better.  I  am  sick  to  death  of  this  empty 
idleness.  I  never  have  had  any  real  satisfaction 
in  it,  and  now  I  mean  to  see  if  there  is  anything 
better  on  the  hard-working  side  of  life.  I  have 
done  nothing  all  my  days  for  God  or  humanity. 
I  have  not  grown,  I  have  shrunk.  I  remember 
long  ago,  when  I  was  a  child,  I  thought  of  the 
poor  and  the  suffering  and  wanted  to  help  them. 
Then  I  grew  selfish,  forgot  all  about  others,  and 
cared  only  for  myself.  I  can  see  nothing  less 
like  Christ  than  such  a  life  as  I  have  led,  so 
selfish,  so  trivial !  God  has  taken  away  the  riches 


6o  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

in  which  I  trusted  and  shaken  me  out  of  this 
home  where  I  have  considered  only  my  own 
ease.  Perhaps  I  shall  learn  to  feel  for  others 
only  by  sharing  their  hard  lot.  At  all  events, 
Leila,  thank  you  for  your  kind  offer,  but  until 
I  have  tried  to  help  myself  and  failed  utterly, 
until  I  have  learned  by  experience  something  of 
the  hardness  of  life,  I  cannot  take  that  offer." 

"You  look  so  unfitted  for  that  hard  life," 
sighed  Leila. 

"  I  am  perfectly  healthy,  and  twenty-one,  in 
possession  of  all  my  faculties.  I  have  Uncle 
Josiah  and  Nurse  Jamieson  to  keep  me  from 
being  all  alone  in  the  world.  I  think  I  begin 
with  as  fair  a  chance  as  any  one  could." 

"  But  what  will  you  do,  dear  girl  ?" 

"  I  do  n't  know.  I  shall  look  for  work.  That 
is  one  of  the  experiences  of  working  women.  It 
will  be  hard.  That  will  serve  me  right.  Have 
I  ever  cared  for  or  sympathized  with  or  tried  to 
help  women  who  were  looking  for  work  ?  I 
have  been  abominably  selfish." 

Leila  rose  up  and  kissed  her.  "  I  am  sorry  I 
am  going  away.  But  the  doctor  has  ordered 
mamma  to  leave  at  once.  You  will  write  to  me, 
dear  Deborah  ?  You  will  let  me  help  you,  give 
to  you,  lend  to  you ;  treat  me  like  a  sister,  will 
you  not?" 

Deborah  looked  her  in  the  face  and  laughed. 


PURPLE  AND   FINE  LINEN.  6l 

She  would  not  promise.  She  was  a  proud  girl : 
defeat  confessed  would  be  ten  times  defeat. 
She  would  take  her  chances  with  other  workers. 

Leila  wrung  her  hands.  "  You  '11  have  a 
dreadful  time  !  What  is  there  for  women  to  do  ? 
To  stand  in  stores  ?  To  sew  ?  You  do  n't  know 
how  to  sew,  do  you,  Deborah  ?  I  do  n't.  I  em- 
broider a  little." 

"  Nurse  Jamieson  says,  '  He  is  worth  no  weel 
who  can  bide  no  woe,'  "  replied  Deborah.  "  Now 
I  can  show  what  I  am  made  of." 

"  You  will  show  that  you  are  made  of  all  that 
is  good  and  noble  and  true  !"  cried  Leila ;  "  and, 
Deborah,  already  I  see  that  troubles  have  made 
you  better.  I  never  before  heard  you  speak  of 
trying  to  do  your  duty  or  to  be  like  Christ.  If 
these  afflictions  work  out  for  you  the  exceeding 
weight  of  glory,  it  will  be  worth  the  suffering  to 
win  the  crown.  The  way  of  the  cross  is  the 
way  of  light.  '  This  is  the  way  the  Master  went ; 
shall  not  the  servant  tread  it  still  ?'  Dear  Deb- 
orah, now  I  feel  nearer  to  you  than  ever.  We 
can  now  help  one  another  on  in  the  Christian 
life.  You  will  be  where  you  can  see  what  help 
is  needed,  and  you  can  let  me  give  it.  I  am  now 
shut  out  from  anything  but  waiting  upon  and 
comforting  mamma,  and  if  there  is  any  work  for 
me  among  the  poor  and  suffering  I  must  be 
helped  to  it  by  you.  Write  to  me  often." 


62  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

And  so  this  friend  went  away,  and  Deborah 
reflected  on  the  fact  that  the  acquaintance  who 
had  been  steadfast  and  true  was  the  Christian, 
the  one  whom  she  had  avoided  as  "  too  pious  " 
and  as  "  given  to  preachments." 

Deborah  was  a  reticent  girl,  and  hitherto  her 
affections  had  been  given  little  scope.  Leila  was 
warm  hearted  and  effusive ;  Deborah  had  never 
been  able  to  appreciate  or  understand  her,  but 
now  she  was  touched.  Leila  sailed  for  Europe. 
The  last  day  in  the  house  of  Dives  came.  Nurse 
Jamieson  had  set  in  order  the  little  home  in  the 
Lazarus  Quarter.  The  daughter  of  Dives  was 
divested  of  all  her  splendors :  her  jewels,  laces, 
and  rich  raiment  were  sold ;  all  her  fine  furniture 
and  pretty  ornaments  and  curios  were  gone ;  a 
half-dozen  or  so  of  books,  a  couple  of  engravings, 
a  bird,  a  few  pots  of  plants,  the  simplest  of  black 
garments — these  only  were  left  her. 

The  treasures  of  the  attic  had  been  taken 
charge  of  by  Uncle  Josiah,  who  said  that  he 
knew  a  place  where  he  could  keep  them  and  get 
them  out  as  they  were  needed.  The  daughter 
of  Dives  passed  from  her  life-long  splendors, 
from  her  purple  and  fine  linen,  to  the  abodes  of 
Lazarus. 

The  people  of  Romaine  Court  were  all  ex- 
citement about  the  rich,  stately  young  lady  who 
had  become  poor  and  with  her  old  nurse  and 


PURPLE  AND   FINE  LINEN.  63 

uncle  had  come  to  live  among  them.  Already 
she  stood  high  in  their  opinion  as  a  Lady  Boun- 
tiful, for  Mrs.  Kegan  had  received  from  her 
blankets,  flannels,  a  big  softly-cushioned  chair,  a 
shawl,  and  a  double  flannel  wrapper.  Little 
Berta  Werner  had  exhibited  to  admiring  neigh- 
bors a  large  doll,  with  real  hair  and  eyes  that 
opened  and  shut. 

"  Why  did  n't  she  play  with  the  doll  ?"  Deb- 
orah had  asked,  seeing  the  waxen  wonder  left  to 
sit  in  state  on  a  corner  shelf. 

"  Play  wis  it !"  cried  the  industrious  infant  in 
amazement ;  "  I  've  got  ze  baby  to  tate  tare  of. 
But  I  loves  to  look  at  it.  It  is  prettier  zan  ze 
baby." 

Evidently,  thought  the  people  of  Romaine 
Court,  a  lady  who  could  give  away  so  much,  who 
was  not  obliged  to  sell  such  treasures  or  send 
them  to  the  pawnbroker,  could  not  be  very  poor. 

As  for  Deborah,  she  moved  into  her  new 
abode,  and  spent  an  hour  in  contemplating  in 
heartsick  horror  its  bareness,  desolation,  and 
poverty.  Where  in  that  home  of  splendor  had 
Nurse  Jamieson  found  such  plain,  queer,  shabby 
furniture  ?  How  could  one  live  without  any  of 
the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life  ? 

She  heard  a  voice  in  the  hall.  "  Hey,  Miss 
Gibbs,  how  are  you  to-day  ?  Them  new  folks, 
the  rich  ones,  have  come.  Mis'  Werner  had  their 


64  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

key,  and  she  let  me  peek  in  this  morning  into 
their  rooms.  A'n't  they  splendid!  Just  ele- 
gant !  Folks  ought  to  be  pretty  contented  that 
can  have  three  rooms,  as  well  set  up  as  that. 
I  'd  be  more  'n  thankful  for  one  half  as  good.  I 
don't  reckon  we'll  see  much  of  Miss.  'Ta'n't 
likely  she  '11  'sociate  with  we.  But  then  she  's 
been  mighty  kind  to  poor  Mis'  Kegan." 

Well,  sure  enough,  there  are  two  sides  to  the 
shield.  Deborah  rose  up  and  set  herself  to 
making  the  most  of  her  forlorn  surroundings. 
She  put  plants,  books,  pictures  in  the  best 
places,  arranged  and  re-arranged  the  furniture. 
Her  native  taste  came  to  the  rescue ;  the  neat- 
ness achieved  by  dame  Agnes  was  supplemented 
by  Miss  Grosvenor's  skill,  and  a  look  of  home 
and  comfort  came  into  the  three  rooms. 

It  was  tea-time ;  Nurse  Jamieson  made  tea 
and  toast  and  fried  some  potatoes.  Never  had 
Deborah  seen  a  meal  so  plain.  When  the  table 
was  set,  near  the  cooking-stove,  Deborah  went'to 
the  little  closet  and  took  out  a  third  plate,  cup, 
and  saucer. 

"  Nurse,"  she  said,  "  we  are  all  one  family 
here ;  you  and  I  are  both  working  women  now, 
and  we  will  eat  together.  I  know  what  I  want ; 
do  n't  object  to  it." 

"  She  is  right,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 

Nurse  Jamieson  looked  at  Deborah  with  tears 


PURPLE  AND   FINE    LINEN.  65 

in  her  eyes.  "  It  is  a'  too  hard  for  her !"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Maister  Josiah,  it  is  no  right  that  my 
puir  lassie  should  be  tried  so  far !" 

"  It  is  all  right,"  said  Uncle  Josiah ;  "  in  com- 
parison with  three-fourths  of  the  working-girls 
Deborah  is  well  off." 

"  Weel,"  said  Agnes,  "  far  sought  and  dear 
bought  is  guid  for  ladies." 

"  A  lady,"  said  Deborah,  "  is,  Webster  tells 
us,  a  person  of  good  manners,  who  dresses  well. 
If  that  is  true  I  have  been  always  a  lady.  Now, 
if  I  cannot  earn  enough  to  be  well  dressed,  I 
must  cease  to  be  a  lady,  I  suppose.  I  'd  rather 
get  something  to  do,  and  be  truly  a  working 
woman.  I  like  to  know  what  I  really  am,  and  be 
what  I  pretend  to  be.  Uncle,  have  you  found 
any  work  ?" 

"  Yes ;  a  gentleman  that  I  know  is  going  to 
pay  me  a  small  salary  for  going  about  as  a  sort 
of  city  missionary,  or  colporter,  or  Bible-man.  I 
am  going  to  open  a  room  in  the  worst  neighbor- 
hood that  I  can  find,  and  provide  advice,  shel- 
ter, religious  instruction ;  help  to  find  work  for 
idlers  ;  have  open  a  prayer-meeting  at  noon  and 
at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  ;  keep  up  a  Sun- 
day breakfast  and  a  Sunday  service  and  a  Bible 
school ;  in  short,  to  try  what  effect  on  sweetening 
the  Marah  waters  some  leaves  from  the  tree  of 
Life  will  have,  if  cast  among  them.  Do  you 

Mr.  Ororrtnor'i  Daughter.       C 


66  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

think,  Deborah,  you  could  be  a  Bible-woman 
along  with  me  ?" 

"Decidedly  no,  uncle.  I  know  very  little 
about  making  my  living,  but  I  do  know  enough 
to  be  honest.  A  Bible-woman  ought  to  have 
some  religious  experiences — I  have  almost  none. 
A  Bible-woman  ought  to  know  something  about 
poverty  and  ways  and  means.  I  know  abso- 
lutely nothing  of  all  this.  I  could  n't  tell  a  poor 
woman  how  to  make  money  or  how  to  save 
money  :  I  know  neither  of  these  things  myself. 
A  Bible-woman  ought,  I  suppose,  to  be  able  to 
tell  people  how  to  make  a  poultice  or  gruel  or  a 
mustard  plaster.  All  I  know  of  doing  such 
things  is  to  say,  '  Call  the  cook  or  the  housekeep- 
er.' I  suppose  a  Bible-woman  should  be  able  to 
dress  a  burn  or  a  sore  finger,  or  to  show  a  person 
how  to  mend  or  make  a  garment,  or  how  to 
make  a  meal  of  nothing  and  have  something  left 
over.  Do  I  know  any  of  these  things  ?  Evi- 
dently not.  I  shall  not  try  to  cheat  God  and 
my  neighbor  by  setting  up  as  a  Bible-woman." 

"  That  is  good  sound  sense,"  said  her  uncle  ; 
"  but  having  sense  to  feel  these  things,  perhaps 
you  have  more  aptitude  for  visiting  the  poor 
than  you  imagine.  However,  you  had  better 
seek  other  work." 

The  next  day  Deborah  concluded  she  would 
test  herself  in  the  matter  of  visiting  the  poor. 


PURPLE  AND   FINE  LINEN.  6/ 

She  reported  at  evening  to  her  uncle  that  she 
had  been  to  see  old  Mrs.  Kegan,  found  the  room 
dirty  and  ill-smelling,  the  old  woman  querulous, 
felt  disgusted  with  both  room  and  woman,  and 
had  fled  in  five  minutes.  Then  she  went  to  see 
Mrs.  Werner  ;  there  she  found  soap-suds,  a  cry- 
ing baby,  and  a  pile  of  soiled  clothes.  She  felt 
faint  in  the  smell  of  suds,  the  soiled  garments 
made  her  ill,  she  could  not  smile  at  the  baby, 
much  less  touch  or  kiss  it,  because  its  face  was 
dirty ;  she  wanted  to  shake  Berta  for  having 
her  apron  torn,  her  shoes  untied,  her  hair  frow- 
sy. As  for  loving  folks  who  were  not  "  nicer," 
it  was  impossible. 

"  Behold  my  gifts  as  a  helper  of  my  kind !" 
said  Deborah. 

"  The  gifts  will  grow  as  you  recognize  the 
deficiencies.  However,  now  we  must  find  you 
some  other  kind  of  work.  Twenty  dollars  a 
month  seems  to  be  a  necessity." 

" Twenty  dollars!  Why  that  will  be  easy 
enough  to  get,  I  am  sure !" 


68  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AT  THE  GATE. 

"  And  the  other  sex,  the  tender,  the  fair, 

What  wide  reverses  of  fate  are  there ! 
While  Margaret,  charmed  by  the  bulbul  rare, 

In  a  garden  of  Gul  reposes, 
Poor  Peggy  hawks  nosegays  from  street  to  street, 
Till — think  of  it,  ye  who  find  life  so  sweet — 
She  hates  the  smell  of  roses  !" 

"  WHAT  do  you  expect  me  to  do  with  twenty 
dollars  a  month  ?"  asked  Deborah,  not  particular- 
ly eager  to  eat  toast  and  fried  potatoes. 

"  Why,  support  yourself,  my  dear  child,"  said 
her  uncle.  "Nurse  Jamieson  has  ninety -six 
dollars  a  year ;  she  will  do  all  our  domestic  work, 
and  get  in  return  her  food,  fire,  and  shelter.  Her 
little  annuity  will  provide  for  the  rest  of  her 
wants.  My  salary  is  thirty  dollars  a  month. 
Out  of  that  I  mean  to  clothe  myself  and  pro- 
vide our  food.  I  look  to  you  to  earn  twenty 
dollars  a  month,  and  so  provide  your  clothing 
and  pay  the  eight  dollars  a  month  of  rent." 

Miss  Grosvenor  was  aghast.  "  Clothe  myself 
for  twelve  dollars  a  month  !  However,  I  shall 
not  need  clothes  for  a  long  time.  But,  uncle, 
surely  the  wages  of  a  grown  person  should  be 


AT  THE  GATE.  69 

more  than  twenty  dollars  a  month,  if  she  has 
no  board  and  lodging  provided.  We  can't  live 
on  what  you  suggest." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  Mrs.  Werner  and  her 
six,  yes,  seven  children,  live  on  ?"  said  Uncle 
Josiah.  "  The  girl  at  service  gets  two  dollars  a 
week  :  one  she  keeps  for  clothing,  one  she  gives 
to  her  mother.  When  Mrs.  Werner  works  all  the 
time  her  profit  on  her  washing  is  five  dollars  a 
week :  of  course  she  has  the  use  of  her  fire  for 
her  own  work  and  comfort.  Her  rent  is  a  dol- 
lar and  a  half  a  week.  Then  she  has  four  dol- 
lars and  a  half  to  feed  and  clothe  herself  and  six 
children. 

"  During  four  months  of  yearly  vacation  the 
four  children  who  go  to  school  get  each  a  dollar 
a  week  as  '  cash  '  in  a  store.  That  is  her  harvest- 
time  for  laying  up  money  for  clothes,  bedding, 
furniture.  How  is  that  ?" 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  such  poverty,"  said 
Deborah. 

"  It  is  affluence  compared  to  the  lot  of  many. 
You  think  twenty  dollars  a  month  small  wages  ? 
I  named  that  to  encourage  you.  Three  dollars  a 
week,  two  dollars,  or  two  and  a  half,  that  is  what 
the  majority  of  your  working  sisters  get.  More 
than  that  is  to  be  earned  only  by  experience 
or  by  dangerous  or  unhealthy  occupations." 

"  At  all   events  it    is  worth    something  to 


70  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

know  all  this.  I  will  begin  on  Monday  to 
search  for  work,"  said  Deborah. 

"  Meanwhile,  on  Sunday,  I  want  you  and 
Nurse  Jamieson  to  come  in  the  afternoon  to  my 
mission,  in  the  slums,  and  each  teach  a  Bible- 
class." 

"  Why,  uncle,  I  never  taught  but  one  month, 
and  I  was  a  terrible  failure.  I  shall  do  no  man- 
ner of  good,"  said  Miss  Grosvenor. 

"  You  will  be  better  than  nobody  ;  you  can 
read,"  said  her  uncle  grimly. 

"  Dear  child,"  said  Dame  Jamieson,  "we  can 
tell  what  the  Lord  has  done  for  us ;  and  we  can 
read  the  good  Buik  to  them." 

"  Besides,  Deborah,  I  look  to  you  for  my 
music,"  said  Uncle  Josiah.  "  I  have  a  little  par- 
lor-organ down  there,  and  some  gospel  hymns, 
and  I  expect  you  to  play  the  accompaniments 
and  lead  the  singing.  Singing  will  be  a  chief 
feature  in  getting  my  audience  together.  They 
will  not  be  critical  as  to  quality,  but  they  like  it 
loud  and  plenty  of  it.  As  we  are  too  far  off  to 
go  to  your  church,  and  you  have  come  to  live 
in  Romaine  Court,  we  shall  go  to  this  little  mis- 
sion church  around  the  corner,  and  I  hope  we 
shall  be  a  real  help  to  them  there." 

Monday  morning  Deborah  bought  several 
newspapers  and  looked  at  "  Help  Wanted — Fe- 
males." She  found  demands  for  house  servants, 


AT   THE   GATE.  71 

laundresses,  waitresses,  a  forewoman  or  two  is. 
factories,  women  with  experience,  a  bookkeeper, 
a  buttonhole-maker  of  skill  for  a  tailor's  estab- 
lishment dress  -  makers'  and  milliners'  hands, 
with  experience,  a  bookkeeper  for  a  restaurant, 
a  skilled  worker  on  a  sewing-machine.  Nothing 
in  all  this  for  Deborah.  She  went  to  the  sec- 
retary of  the  "  Public  Charities  "  and  registered 
"  for  work."  As  there  was  no  particular  kind 
of  work  that  she  could  do,  the  secretary  gave 
her  very  little  encouragement.  However  she 
left  her  name.  Then  she  went  to  the  "  Young 
Women's  Christian  Association  "  and  made  an 
application.  Could  she  teach,  do  foreign  cor- 
respondence, was  she  a  stenographer,  a  good 
type-writer  ?  No :  nothing  of  this.  "  And  you 
cannot  take  less  than  twenty  dollars  a  month  ? 
You  can  hardly  get  such  high  wages  unless  you 
really  know  some  kind  of  work." 

High  wages !  Deborah  caught  her  breath. 
She  left  her  application.  But  she  was  proud, 
reticent,  well  dressed.  The  secretary  did  not 
consider  it  a  case  of  extremity,  and  though  her 
name  stood  on  the  books,  no  further  attention 
was  paid  to  it.  Next  to  the  "  Women's  Protect- 
ive and  Educational  Society,"  and  again  she  was 
told  that  "  work  was  scarce,  competition  great ; 
she  would  have  a  better  chance  to  make  a  living 
if  she  really  knew  how  to  do  something.  If  she 


72  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

had  any  needlework  or  art-work  to  leave  to  be 
sold,  meanwhile,  she  was  welcome  to  do  so."  As 
she  walked,  sad  and  discouraged,  towards  Ro- 
maine  Court  she  saw  the  sign  of  a  private  "  Of- 
fice for  Ladies'  Employments,"  and  went  in. 
She  was  assured  that  work  was  plenty  and  a  nice 
place  with  a  good  salary  could  be  found  for  her 
at  once,  if  she  registered  and  left  two  dollars 
"for  expenses."  She  left  the  two  dollars;  she 
also  called  at  that  office  nine  times  within  the 
next  three  weeks,  but  no  position  was  ever  found 
for  her. 

For  a  whole  week  Deborah  had  been  seeking 
work  without  success,  and  was  now  thoroughly 
weary  and  discouraged.  One  morning  she 
found  an  advertisement  in  the  paper  which  read 
as  if  it  might  suit.  She  showed  it  to  Nurse 
Jamieson. 

"  I  suppose  I  must  go ;  but  it  is  so  far  up 
town,  and  I  am  so  tired  of  failing." 

"  My  puir  lambie  !  See  now,  you  bide  here, 
and  I  '11  go  for  you.  If  there  is  aught  in  it  I 
can  get  ye  the  chance  o'  it." 

Deborah  first  refused,  then  yielded.  At  the 
end  of  three  hours  Dame  Agnes  came  back,  red- 
faced  and  furious. 

"  Did  you  get  me  anything?"  demanded  Deb- 
orah. 

"  It  was  a  wicked  trap  !"  cried  Agnes.     "  My 


AT  THE   GATE.  73 

lambie,  ye  shanna  answer  advertisements  save 
to  open  business  places.  The  guid  Lord  ha' 
mercy  on  a  wicked  warld !  I  just  went  to  the 
police  office  an'  made  my  complaint,  but  there 's 
no  knowing  what  guid  it  will  do." 

Deborah  went  and  lay  down  in  her  room  and 
cried. 

Another  week  of  search,  and  she  found  a 
situation  in  a  little  office,  up  three  flights  of  stairs, 
the  work  directing  envelopes,  wages  two  dollars 
and  a  half  a  week.  "  I  am  bound  to  do  some- 
thing, and  this  will  pay  the  rent,"  said  Deborah. 

"  I  do  n't  like  you  to  take  that,  but  you  can 
try  it,  if  you  tell  me  exactly  how  you  get  on," 
said  her  uncle. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  Deborah  reported  that 
her  employer,  a  rough,  untidy  man,  smoked  all 
day  long  and  filled  the  close  little  den  with  such 
vile  smoke  that  it  made  her  ill ;  he  and  his  busi- 
ness visitors  swore  openly  and  loudly,  and  final- 
ly he  had  called  her  "  Sis." 

"You  shall  not  go  back  there,"  said  Uncle 
Josiah,  "  not  for  an  hour.  But  do  not  forget  that 
there  are  girls  who  would  be  obliged  to  go  and 
submit  to  all  that,  or  they  would  have  no  pit- 
tance for  either  bed  or  bread." 

The  next  week  Deborah  was  angry  against 
her  fortunes.  She  sat  and  moped ;  she  scarcely 
spoke  or  ate.  She  hated  her  neighborhood,  her 


74  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

poor  abode,  her  poverty.  She  was  miserable — 
not  because  there  were  others  just  as  badly  off 
as  she,  and  many  worse  off — but  miserable  sim- 
ply and  solely  on  account  of  Deborah  Grosvenor. 
Her  uncle  sat  down  by  her  and  took  her  hand. 
"  My  dear,  do  you  remember  what  Charles 
Kingsley  wrote :  4  If  you  want  to  be  miserable 
think  about  yourself  —  about  what  you  want, 
what  you  like,  what  respect  people  ought  to  pay 
you,  and  what  people  think  of  you.'  That  way 
of  thinking  made  you  miserable  when  you  were 
rich,  it  can  make  you  miserable  now  that  you 
are  poor.  Listen  to  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  what 
I  have  seen.  I  have  found  a  crippled  child,  a 
boy  of  eight,  whose  mother  leaves  him  at  half- 
past  six  in  the  morning,  and  he  is  alone  for  near- 
ly or  full  twelve  hours.  She  puts  some  water, 
bread,  cold  meat  or  potatoes,  at  his  hand,  and 
there  he  lies,  no  window  but  one  in  the  roof,  no 
friends,  no  amusements,  no  toys.  Think  of  that 
life  for  a  little  sick  child !  I  have  found  a  little 
lame  girl  of  twelve  who  takes  care  of  six  young- 
er children,  doing  all  the  housework  and  wash- 
ing, while  the  mother  is  out  all  day  with  a  bas- 
ket of  fruit  and  the  father  is  in  the  penitentiary. 
I  have  found  a  poor  woman  who  fell  and  broke 
her  arm  in  two  places  while  she  was  cleaning  a 
store  window.  She  cannot  go  to  a  hospital,  as 
she  has  year-old  twins.  Her  husband  has  long 


AT  THE   GATE.  75 

been  sick,  and  can  now  do  but  light  work. 
Three  dollars  and  a  half  a  week  is  all  their 
income,  and  most  of  their  bedding  has  been 
pawned,  so  they  suffer  with  cold.  I  want  you 
to  make  my  rounds  with  me  to-morrow,  as  you 
do  not  have  success  in  rinding  work." 

Next  day  Miss  Grosvenor  went  out  with  her 
uncle.  December  had  come  and  the  weather 
was  cold,  damp,  lowering.  The  chilly  wind,  the 
mud,  the  mist,  made  the  wretched  abodes  of  the 
poor  seem  more  dismal  than  usual.  It  was  a  day 
that  Deborah  always  remembered,  because  it 
was  her  first  contact  with  real,  hopeless,  grinding 
poverty.  She  forgot  herself  and  her  troubles ; 
she  was  filled  with  a  longing  to  do  something  to 
relieve  this  abject  misery. 

"Uncle,"  she  said  in  the  evening,  "what 
have  you  done  with  those  things  from  our  attic  ? 
I  am  sure  there  were  some  thick  quilts  and  a 
dress  or  two  that  could  be  given  to  that  poor 
woman  whose  arm  is  broken.  I  want  some  of 
my  toys  for  that  dear  little  cripple  boy  ;  and  is  n't 
there  something  to  make  life  easier  for  that  poor 
child  who  is  house -mother  to  that  uproarious 
little  crew  ?" 

"  I  Ve  no  doubt  that  there  are  all  these  things, 
and  at  this  rate  we  shall  soon  give  away  all  that 
there  was  in  the  attic." 

"  Give  it  then.     It  has  been  withheld  too 


76  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

long ;  it  will  save  your  friend  the  trouble  of 
storing  the  stuff.  Oh  why  did  not  some  one 
take  me  to  see  such  need  when  I  was  rich  and 
could  have  helped  it !"  cried  Deborah. 

The  next  day  at  noon  Nurse  Jamieson  said, 
"  My  dearie,  will  you  take  a  pitcher  of  soup  to 
the  woman  who  lives  in  the  attic  of  the  last  house 
in  our  court?  She  has  pneumonia  and  has  no 
one  to  take  care  of  her  but  a  child  seven  years 
old.  I  have  been  doing  a  little  for  her  every 
day." 

Deborah  went  off  with  the  pitcher.  She  was 
gone  some  time.  When  she  came  back  she 
said,  "  I  combed  her  hair  and  made  her  bed, 
dusted  her  room  and  fed  her  the  soup.  I  think 
we  should  have  enough  careful  district  nurses  to 
supply  all  such  cases.  How  the  sick  poor  are 
neglected  !"  But  she  could  not  eat  any  dinner ; 
it  takes  one  a  long  time  to  get  accustomed  to 
the  sights,  sounds,  and  smells  of  the  homes  of 
sickness  and  poverty. 

Seeing  how  she  was  affected,  Uncle  Josiah 
said  to  her,  "  Deborah,  perhaps  this  is  too  much 
for  you.  You  know  it  is  open  to  you  to  go  to 
Miss  Stirling,  or  to  take  that  place  that  old  Mrs. 
Crane  offered  you,  as  companion.  Nurse  Jamie- 
son  and  I  could  stay  here,  and  you  could  come  to 
see  us  sometimes." 

"  No,"  said  Deborah,  "  my  health  is  not  yet 


AT  THE  GATE.  77 

hurt  one  particle,  and  I  am  resolved  to  make  my 
living  here  among  the  poor.  I  now  want  to 
know  what  my  working  sisters  need  and  what 
is  to  be  done  for  them.  Perhaps,  after  I  have 
had  experience,  I  may  be  able  to  show  other 
people,  like  Leila  Stirling,  what  to  do  for  the 
city  working-women.  It  is  too  soon  to  confess 
myself  beaten  ;  I  will  still  persevere.  I  can  ask 
Mrs.  Werner  and  Mrs.  Kegan  if  they  know  how 
I  can  get  work.  I  have  still  some  money  in  my 
purse." 

That  money  in  Deborah's  purse  dwindled 
suddenly  next  day,  for  Mrs.  Werner,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  told  Nurse  Jamieson  of  a  friend  of 
hers,  a  widow  with  a  sick  daughter,  who  had 
been  served  with  a  dispossess  warrant,  because 
she  could  not  pay  her  rent  in  one  room,  on  a 
street  near  them.  Mrs.  Werner  had  no  idea  that 
any  help  could  be  given,  but  just  poured  out  to 
Nurse  Jamieson  the  sympathetic  sorrow  of  her 
heart.  The  tale  seemed  to  Deborah  so  harrow- 
ing that  she  put  on  her  hat  and  ran  round  to  the 
place  indicated,  where  she  found  men  putting 
women  and  furniture  into  the  street.  She  paid 
the  three  dollars  in  arrears  and  also  two  dollars 
in  advance,  and  left  the  poor  "  slop-sewers " 
blessing  her  for  shelter. 

"  But  your  purse  is  now  nearly  empty,"  said 
her  uncle. 


78  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"That  does  not  matter.  It  is  worth  some- 
thing to  have  found  out  that  I  have  a  heart; 
that  I  can  weep  with  those  that  weep.  There  is 
a  little  of  the  blood  of  the  great  Christian  family 
in  me  still,  I  see,  and  I  believe  I  am  following 
Christ." 

That  evening  Mrs.  Kegan's  grandson,  who 
supported  her,  came  to  the  door  to  §ay  that 
"  Miss  could  get  a  place  where  he  worked  in 
a  rubber-shoe  factory,  in  the  pasting-room.  Ex- 
perience was  not  needed ;  the  work  was  hard 
and  dirty,  wages  three  dollars  a  week,  rising  to 
four." 

"  I  will  take  it,"  said  Deborah,  though  Uncle 
Josiah  remonstrated  that  such  work  was  hardly 
the  right  kind  for  her.  "  It  will  be  time  enough 
to  stop  if  I  get  something  better  or  find  that 
this  hurts  me." 

Admitted  next  day  to  the  "  rubber-factory," 
Deborah  found  a  large  ill-lighted  room,  the  air 
loaded  with  the  smell  of  benzine,  where  twenty 
big  girls,  in  very  dirty  sacking  aprons,  were 
pasting  at  long  tables.  The  fine,  small  hands  of 
Dives'  daughter  had  much  ado  to  manage  the 
big  sticky  brush  that  was  committed  to  her ;  her 
collar  and  the  large  gingham  apron  of  Nurse 
Jamieson  were  considered  very  sumptuous,  and 
she  was  treated  to  most  inquisitive  looks  and 
pressing  questions  by  her  fellow-workwomen. 


AT  THE  GATE.  79 

"Are  you  the  lady  Dick  Kegan  says  has  lost  all 
her  money?"  "Are  you  really  come  down 
poor?"  "  I  'd  have  gone  and  drowned  myself." 
"  This  will  kill  you.  Not  one  in  a  hundred  can 
stand  the  benzine."  "  Her  hands  will  give  out 
first." 

Presently  a  short  girl,  with  very  black  eyes 
and  hair  and  a  handsome,  gypsy-like  face,  came 
in.  There  was  a  chorus  of  exclamations  :  "  Oh, 
Maggie  !  How  's  your  hand  ?"  "  Did  you  have 
your  ringer  cut  off  ?"  "  Have  you  come  into  a 
fortune  ?"  "  Is  n't  that  a  new  bonnet  you  have  ?" 
"  Whew !  you  must  be  in  luck  ;what  a  nice 
dress  you  have  on !"  "  Let 's  see  your  hand. 
Had  the  finger  cut  open  !"  "  Well,  that 's  better 
than  amputation.  Amputation  means  starvation 
to  us  working-girls."  Thus  spoke  the  girls  as 
they  worked. 

"  Girls !"  cried  the  young  forewoman,  "  you 
must  go  on  with  your  work." 

"  Oh  we  are !    Tell  us  your  news,  Maggie." 

"  Only  I  'm  back  with  my  mistress,  the  lady  I 
lived  with,  and  left  to  make  three  dollars  a  week 
here,  like  a  fool.  You  see  I  would  not  have  my 
finger  cut  off ;  but  it 's  been  bad  so  long,  with 
medicine  and  board  and  all  that,  I  was  clean  out 
of  money,  and  sick  and  nearly  wild,  when  I  met 
the  young  lady  in  the  street,  and  she  made  me 
come  right  home  with  her.  So  my  mistress  said 


8o  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

for  me  to  stay  at  once,  at  the  old  wages,  and  I 
told  her  I  was  n't  worth  them,  with  such  a  hand. 
And  I  told  her  I  had  no  decent  clothes  left.  But 
she  said  to  come  along  and  do  as  well  as  I  could. 
The  young  lady  made  me  two  bonnets,  this  and 
another ;  and  her  mother  gave  me  this  dress, 
and  a  calico,  and  six  aprons.  And  if  ever  I 
leave  them  again,  it  will  be  when  my  senses 
leave  me.  I  am  out  on  an  errand  and  stopped 
in  a  minute  while  I  had  to  wait." 

"What  was  wrong  with  her  hand?"  asked 
Deborah,  when  Maggie  had  left. 

"  Felon — an  awful  bad  felon  ;  we  many  of  us 
get  felons,  from  hard  pressing  on  the  paste- 
brush,  or  rubbing  hard  on  the  cloth,  as  we  have 
to,  with  our  hands.  Maggie  got  hers  five  months 
ago.  She 's  had  a  dreadful  time,  but  it  is  not  al- 
ways one  finds  a  nice  lady  to  help  you  out." 

"  She  's  better  off  by  half  at  service,"  said  the 
pretty,  delicate  young  forewoman.  "  I  'm  going 
back  to  service  as  soon  as  the  lady  I  like  to  live 
with  comes  home  from  the  South.  I  shall  die  of 
this  benzine ;  it  nearly  ruins  me.  I  have  lost  ten 
pounds  in  three  weeks,  and  I  am  getting  so  I 
can  neither  eat  nor  sleep." 

"  There 's  no  need  for  you  to  do  it,"  said  one 
of  the  girls. 

"  The  six  dollars  tempted  me ;  I  want  to  do 
well  for  my  little  boy." 


AT  THE   GATE.  8 1 

"  Yes ;  and  get  your  death  and  leave  him  an 
orphan  ;  that  will  be  doing  well  for  him  !" 

"And  you  have  money,  Stella,  a  thousand 
dollars,"  said  one  ;  "  your  husband's  life  insur- 
ance, and  the  money  from  his  share  of  the  ship 
he  was  drowned  from." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  want  to  save  that  to  set  my  boy 
up  in  business." 

"  Instead,  you  '11  kill  yourself  at  this  work, 
and  some  one  will  abuse  the  boy  and  use  up  all 
his  thousand.  Children  are  ill  off  without  mo- 
thers. You  do  n't  show  good  sense." 

The  girls  worked  as  they  talked,  worked  me- 
chanically and  swiftly.  Some  of  them  had 
elected  to  be  paid  by  the  piece.  These  were 
the  experienced  workers.  They  all  laughed 
openly  at  Deborah  for  her  slowness.  She  felt 
dizzy  from  the  smell  of  the  benzine ;  her  back 
ached  from  standing ;  her  head  ached  with  the 
noise  and  heavy  air ;  her  hands  and  arms  ached 
from  dragging  the  stiff  brush  with  the  terribly 
tenacious  paste. 

And  oh  what  a  hubbub !  One  girl  sang 
snatches  of  street  songs  ;  two  chattered  about  a 
low  theatre,  about  which  they  seemed  nearly 
demented  ;  several  indulged  in  jokes,  the  coarse- 
ness of  which  was  constantly  repressed  by  the 
forewoman  if  they  became  too  atrocious ;  very 
vulgar  words  constantly  were  resounding  in  the 

Mr  Qroevenor's  Daughter:          Q 


82  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

room,  but  profanity  was  repressed  by  the  fore- 
woman  and  one  or  two  others. 

"  I  know  where  you  found  that  kind  of  talk," 
burst  out  Stella,  the  young  widow,  their  fore- 
woman, one  day,  "  from  those  wicked  books  and 
flash  papers  that  you  read.  Many  of  you  spend 
dimes  and  nickels,  which  laid  up  would  buy  you 
shoes,  for  filthy  trash  that  fills  your  mind  with 
reckless  thoughts  and  stifles  whatever  con- 
science is  left  in  you !  I  have  seen  you  hanging 
about  counters  where  the  stuff  is  sold,  and  buy- 
ing things  that  are  kept  hidden  under  counters 
and  dare  not  be  brought  to  light !" 

Some  of  the  girls  had  the  grace  to  blush. 
"  We  must  read,"  said  one  sulkily. 

"Sometimes  I  think  it  is  a  pity  you  ever 
learned,  you  make  such  a  bad  use  of  your  knowl- 
edge," retorted  Stella. 

"  Bad  stuff  is  cheap,  you  know,"  suggested 
another. 

"  So  is  good  reading  cheap,"  cried  Deborah  ; 
"  there  is  just  as  cheap  good  reading  as  bad,  and 
the  good  reading  would  make  you  better  and 
more  womanly,  while  this  other  degrades  you. 
Can  one  touch  pitch  and  not  be  defiled  ?" 


CRUMBS.  83 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CRUMBS. 

"  Sooner  or  later  I  too  may  passively  take  the  print 
Of  the  golden  age.    Why  not  ?    I  have  neither  hope  nor  trust : 
May  make  my  heart  as  a  mill-stone,  set  my  face  like  flint, 
Cheat  and  be  cheated  and  die.    Who  knows  ?     We  are  ashes 
and  dust." 

THE  tales  which  Dick  Kegan  had  told  at  the 
rubber-factory  in  regard  to  Miss  Grosvenor's 
former  great  wealth  and  the  sudden  loss  of  for- 
tune which  reduced  her  to  the  ranks  of  working- 
girls  made  her  conspicuous  in  the  pasting-room. 
Her  new  companions  discussed  her  and  her 
affairs  openly,  with  refreshing  frankness. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  lost  your  money,"  said  one. 
"  Serves  you  right.  All  the  rich  folks  ought  to 
lose  their  money.  It  is  all  stolen  from  the  poor. 
What  right  has  one  person  to  be  rolling  in  gold 
while  another  rolls  in  mud  ?  You  had  more 
than  you  deserved  of  being  fed  on  the  fat  of  the 
land  and  dressed  in  silks  and  satins !  It  just 
makes  me  mad  to  see  these  rich  folks  going 
about  with  their  noses  sniffed  up,  despising  us 
poor"bnes.  You  did  that,  I  know." 

"  I  am  sure  I  did  not,"  said  Deborah. 


84  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Well,  were  you  sorry  for  them  and  kind 
and  trying  to  help  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Deborah  honestly,  "  I  never  knew 
what  need  there  was,  and  I  just  never  thought 
about  poor  people  at  all." 

"  Hm — spent  all  your  time  thinking  about 
your  own  precious  self  !  Well,  now  you  '11  have 
a  chance  to  think  about  yourself  in  another 
way — that  your  legs  are  numb,  and  your  back  is 
like  to  break  in  two,  and  your  fingers  hurt  so 
you  can't  sleep.  Perhaps  that  will  teach  you  to 
regard  poor  folks  more  than  if  they  were  sticks 
and  stones  of  the  street." 

"  Being  poor  do  n't  make  people  kind-heart- 
ed," spoke  up  another  girl.  "  There  's  Mrs. 
Frankley.  She  was  as  bad  off  as  we  are  when 
she  was  a  young  girl.  Did  slop-sewing,  and  was 
as  poor  as  Job's  turkey.  Then,  as  she  was  pret- 
ty, Mr.  Frankley  married  her,  and  he  got  rich  and 
they  just  roll  in  wealth.  She  plays  now  at  being 
charitable ;  but  she  is  so  scornful  and  domineer- 
ing that  I  'd  rather  die  than  be  helped  by  her. 
One  real  delicate  girl,  who  was  out  of  work,  she 
got  a  place  in  a  cigar  factory  for,  and  the  doctors 
said  she  'd  die  if  she  stayed  there ;  but  Mrs. 
Frankley  said  if  the  girl  was  so  proud  and  self- 
willed  that  she  would  n't  take  what  was  given 
her,  she  would  do  nothing  more  for  her.  A  poor 
girl  hasn't  any  right  to  live,  in  her  ideas!" 


CRUMBS.  85 

"  You  think  it  is  very  bad  in  this  country," 
said  a  middle-aged  English  woman,  "  but  here 
the  poor  have  some  chance  to  get  rich.  In  my 
country  people  are  rich  and  great  because  they 
are  born  so ;  and  when  one  is  born  low  down 
he  has  to  stay  down.  Now  here  folks  can  at 
least  hope.  There  's  one  text  in  the  Bible  that 
ought  to  be  preached  from  every  Sunday.  If 
it  was,  I  'd  go  to  church.  '  What  mean  ye  that 
ye  beat  my  people  to  pieces  and  grind  the  faces 
of  the  poor?  saiththe  Lord  God  of  hosts.'  But 
the  parsons  never  touch  on  that.  If  religion 
was  more  than  a  pretending,  if  folks  really  be- 
lieved that  there  was  one  Father  in  heaven,  and 
all  people  were  His  children  and  ought  to  help 
each  other,  things  would  get  straightened  up. 
But  no ;  they  are  religious  for  themselves,  just 
as  they  are  rich  for  themselves.  I  declare  it 
makes  me  mad !  I  suppose,"  and  she  turned 
fiercely  to  Deborah,  "  that  you  called  yourself 
religious,  and  never  thought  of  the  poor !" 

"  I  was  very  wrong  ;  that  was  because  I  had 
too  little  religion." 

"  Stuff !  If  you  had  your  money  back  to-day, 
you  'd  be  as  bad  to-morrow." 

"  Was  it  because  of  the  rich  and  poor  and  the 
hard  times  that  you  came  to  this  country  ?"  de- 
manded another  girl,  " '  out  of  the  frying-pan  into 
the  fire !'  What  do  you  think  I  saw  yesterday  ? 


86  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Three  children  down  of  scarlet  fever  ill  one 
room ;  no  lights  ;  father  bent  double  with  rheu- 
matism, and  has  to  sleep  on  the  floor,  so  the  sick 
children  can  lie  on  the  bed.  No  money,  fuel 
nearly  gone,  and  the  poor  mother  crying,  '  Oh  if 
I  only  had  a  light !  Oh  if  I  had  some  candles ! 
I  'm  afraid  my  children  will  die  in  the  dark,  and 
I  can't  have  a  last  look  at  them !'  Is  it  such 
trouble  you  came  to  this  country  to  share,  Mrs. 
Hodge?" 

"  It  may  be  bad  here,  but  it 's  worse  there," 
said  Mrs.  Hodge  doggedly.  "  Here  there  's  hope 
for  the  children,  a  chance  for  the  boys.  I  have  a 
grand-nephew,  Oliver,  that  has  the  makings  of  a 
good  man  in  him,  if  he  do  n't  get  led  off.  He 
may  get  on  in  the  world  and  help  the  rest  of 
us — only  he 's  pulled  down  by  a  bad  step-father, 
poor  lad ! " 

"  Drink,  I  suppose,"  said  Stella.  "  Drink  is 
at  the  bottom  of  the  trouble  and  poverty  in  this 
country,  most  of  it  at  least.  If  folks  are  very 
low  down,  you  can  find  drink  at  the  beginning 
of  the  misery.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  those 
who  get  the  hard  part  of  the  suffering  are  not 
the  ones  who  did  the  sinning." 

"And  how  do  you  think  you'll  like  being 
poor?"  said  "big  Jean,"  a  handsome  Scotch 
girl  with  short  red  curls.  She  had  a  mocking 
smile  on  her  face  as  she  turned  to  Deborah. 


CRUMBS.  87 

"I  sha'n't  like  it,"  said  Deborah  fiercely; 
"  but  if  there  are  such  things  as  these  I  'd  rather 
hear  it  and  feel  it,  and  have  my  blood  boil  with 
anger  and  sorrow  over  it,  than  go  on  knowing 
nothing  about  it,  doing  nothing  about  it,  when 
the  Lord  expects  me  to  do  something." 

"  Oh,  the  Lord.  Then  you  do  pretend  to  be 
religious!  Well,  see  if  you  can  keep  it  up 
among  us.  The  owner  of  this  factory  is  sup- 
posed to  be  religious  also.  Wait  till  pay-night 
and  see  if  you  think  much  of  practical  piety 
then.  If  you  do  n't  get  treated  right  you  can 
go  to  church  and  pray  for  your  enemies.  I  sup- 
pose you  do  go  to  church  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  do  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  much.  When  would  I  get  my  washing 
and  my  mending  done,  or  take  a  breath  of  fresh 
air  in  the  Park?" 

"  I  lie  in  bed  all  day  Sunday  the  year  round," 
said  another  worker.  "  I  do  n't  want  to  go  to 
the  Park  and  see  other  folks  all  dressed  up  to 
kill,  and  me  left  in  tatters." 

"  Well,  I  go  to  church  in  the  morning  and 
evening,  and  in  the  afternoon  I  teach  in  a 
Sunday-school,"  said  Deborah. 

"  You  '11  find  you  can't  do  that,  once  you 
have  worked  long  enough  to  get  real  tired  out," 
cried  several. 

"  What  do  you  teach  in  Sunday-school  ?    '  Do 


88  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

as  you  'd  be  done  by  '?  And  for  example  tell 
how  good  and  liberal  you  used  to  be  when  you 
had  plenty?" 

"  You  wind  up,"  said  the  big  Scotch  girl. 
"  Dick  Kegan  says  she  is  awful  kind,  and  gives 
away  things  and  pays  rent  for  poor  folks  that 
is  turned  out,  and  nursed  a  sick  woman  in 
their  court.  She  a'n't  half  bad ;  if  she  had 
been  she'd  have  kept  her  money.  The  mean 
ones  have  all  the  luck  in  this  world.  I  remem- 
ber when  I  was  in  Scotland,  a  wee  girlie,  my  old 
mother  kept  Sunday  like  that;  and  evenings, 
when  the  win'  soughed  about  the  house,  we  sat 
by  the  chimney  lug  and  she  told  me  tales  out  of 
the  Bible,  and  about  John  Knox  and  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots  and  Bloody  Mary  and  the  rest." 

"  A  Scotch  woman,  Nurse  Jamieson,  lives 
with  me,"  said  Deborah,  looking  at  her.  "  Per- 
haps you  'd  like  to  know  her." 

"I  don't  care  to  know  any  decent  folks," 
said  Jean.  "  Do  you  know  that  I  drink  ?  and 
when  I  get  drunk  I  'm  a  terror !  I  've  been  to 
the  Island.  The  very  night  I  got  back  I  went 
to  the  bank  and  drew  fifty  dollars,  and  got  a  lot 
of  girls  together,  and  we  had  a  big  supper  and  a 
spree." 

"  What !"  cried  Deborah,  "  a  woman  act  so  ?" 

"You're  what  they  call  out  West  a  tender- 
foot !"  sneered  a  girl. 


CRUMBS.  89 

"She  knows  what  they  say  in  the  Wild 
West,"  shouted  her  neighbor,  "  because  she  sits 
up  nights  reading  nickel  novels  and  blood  and 
fire  stories,  about  women  scouts  and  cattle 
king  women,  that  shoot  folks  right  and  left,  and 
haven't  the  fear  of  God  or  man  before  their 
eyes." 

"  Half  the  mischief  among  you  girls  is  done 
by  bad  books,"  spoke  up  Mrs.  Hodge.  "  You  're 
like  what  you  feed  your  minds  on.  Bad  books 
and  whiskey,  there  's  your  ruin." 

"  I  should  think  it  hardly  paid  to  spend  fifty 
dollars  that  way,"  said  Deborah,  turning  to  Jean. 

"  So  I  thought.  So  I  bolted  for  the  sea-shore, 
and^  told  my  story  to  one  of  the  Temperance 
women,  and  got  her  to  take  me  for  a  cook.  She 
was  mighty  kind  to  me — had  me  in  to  prayers 
every  morning.  I  couldn't  get  one  drop  of 
drink.  Five  weeks  I  stood  it ;  then  I  told  her  it 
was  no  use  ;  I  'd  go  back  to  the  city  if  I  had  to 
walk.  So  I  went,  and  spent  my  fifteen  dollars  of 
wages  on  a  big  drink  the  night  I  got  back.  Now 
I  've  been  good  two  months,  and  I  mean  to  break 
out  again." 

"  You  'd  better  get  some  one  to  lock  you  up," 
said  Deborah,  horrified. 

"  Wont  do  any  good.  I  Ve  tried  every- 
thing." 

Deborah  shook  her  head.     "  Surely  you  did 


90  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

not  try  in  the  right  way,  looking  to  our  blessed 
Lord  to  help  you  and  keep  you  from  falling.  In 
his  strength  we  stand,  Jean." 

"  I  did  the  best  I  knew.  I  thought  of  my 
dead  mither,  an'  I  went  down  to  the  Bethel,  and 
the  singing  made  me  cry.  The  preacher  prayed 
so  I  got  down  on  my  knees  and  cried  out  loud, 
and  if  that  is  no  getting  religion  what  is  ?" 

"  Were  you  sorry  for  your  sins,  and  did  you 
feel  how  they  had  wounded  Christ,  and  did  you 
lay  them  on  him  and  ask  that  he  should  wash 
you  in  his  blood  and  keep  you  clean?" 

"  No,  I  didna.  I  hae  clean  forgot  a'  my 
mither  tellt  me  aboot  Christ  the  Lord." 

"  She  was  in  a  factory  that  got  afire,  and  no 
escapes  had  been  provided,  and  some  lives  were 
lost ;  and  she  was  badly  burned  on  the  side  and 
legs,  and  was  in  a  hospital  for  a  year  and  got 
twelve  hundred  dollars  damages ;  and  she 's 
squandered  it  on  drinking  till  it  is  nearly  gone," 
explained  Deborah's  neighbor. 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  a  chance  of  getting 
burned  and  getting  all  that  money  damages," 
said  a  girl.  "  I  'd  go  get  a  little  place  in  a  village, 
and  get  married,  and  live  in  peace,  and  bring  up 
my  family  decently.  Life  would  be  worth  some- 
thing then." 

"  Could  so  much  be  done  with  twelve  hun- 
dred dollars?"  thought  Miss  Grosvenor.  There 


CRUMBS.  9! 

was  a  noise,  an  exclamation ;  one  of  the  girls 
had  fainted.  "  Take  her  into  the  hall  by  a 
window,"  said  the  forewoman.  "  This  room 
ought  to  be  ventilated.  It  is  killing  us  all." 

"  Why  not  speak  to  the  employers,  and  have 
it  ventilated  and  made  decent  ?"  said  Deborah. 

"  Oh,  you  innocent !"  sneered  a  paster,  "  do  n't 
you  know  that  for  two  or  three  or  four  dollars 
a  week  we  are  bought  body  and  soul  ?  Suppose 
we  are  killed  ?  What  then  ?  Working  girls  are 
plenty ;  room  for  the  next !" 

For  two  weeks  Deborah  remained  in  the 
pasting-room.  Uncle  Josiah  and  Nurse  Jamie- 
son  watched  her  closely  and  begged  her  to  leave 
it  and  wait  for  something  better.  "  I  will  leave 
it  when  I  find  something  better,"  said  Deborah. 
"  How  would  other  girls  do  ?  Keep  on  if  it 
killed  them,  I  suppose." 

"  But  you  are  not  quite  in  that  case,"  said 
her  uncle. 

Privately  Uncle  Josiah  instructed  Dick 
Kegan  to  inform  himself  as  to  what  went  on  in 
the  pasting-room,  and  if  anything  particularly 
unpleasant  happened  to  Miss  Grosvenor,  to  let 
him  know  at  once.  "  Ay,  I  understand,"  said 
Dick.  Meanwhile  Deborah,  having  entered  the 
pasting-room  on  Thursday  morning,  went  with 
the  rest  on  Saturday  night  for  her  wages — a  dol- 
lar and  a  half  for  half  a  week's  work. 


92  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  D.  Grosvenor,"  said  the  paying-clerk. 
"  Well,  let 's  see.  You  broke  the  handle  of  a  paste- 
brush  ;  thirty-five  cents  for  that." 

"It  was  an  old  brush,  and  never  cost  over 
twenty-five  cents  when  it  was  new,"  said  Deborah 
with  indignation. 

"That  is  none  of  your  business,"  said  the 
clerk.  "  If  you  pay  high  you  '11  learn  to  be  care- 
ful. Late  two  mornings  and  one  noon,  five 
minutes  once,  ten  minutes  twice ;  fined  for  late- 
ness thirty  cents." 

"  It  was  not  late  by  the  city  clock ;  your  clock 
is  kept  >  fast.  And  my  time  is  not  paid  for  at 
ten  cents  an  hour ;  that  would  be  a  dollar  a  day 
instead  of  fifty  cents,"  replied  Deborah. 

"If  you  don't  like  it  you  can  lump  it,"  said 
the  clerk.  "Take  it  or  leave  it;  pasters  are 
plenty."  He  gave  her  eighty-five  cents,  saying, 
"  Move  on  ;  too  much  talk  from  you." 

How  angry  was  Dives'  daughter  at  this  treat- 
ment !  Her  fellow-workwomen  instructed  her. 
"  You  can't  make  them  play  fair ;  it 's  no  use 
to  talk.  That 's  the  way  they  grind  us  down  !" 

After  three  girls  had  fainted  in  the  pasting- 
room,  Deborah  announced  her  intention  of  going 
to  remonstrate  with  the  owner.  The  other 
pasters  awaited  with  joy,  interest,  and  covert 
scorn  the  result  of  the  remonstrance  of  Dives' 
daughter  in  behalf  of  sanitary  provisions. 


CRUMBS.  93 

Deborah's  boots  and  gloves,  dress  and  hat, 
were  black  and  neat,  her  bearing  that  of  the 
child  of  "the  classes."  She  appeared  at  the 
front  door  of  the  office,  and  the  owner  rose  up 
with  a  bow.  "  Did  you  wish  to  see  me  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Deborah,  "  I  came  to  tell  you, 
what  perhaps  you  do  not  know,  that  your  past- 
ing room  is  in  such  a  terrible  condition,  from 
want  of  fresh  air,  from  dirt  and  the  smell  of 
benzine,  that  the  health  of  the  girls  is  being 
ruined.  They  faint  frequently.  Mere  human- 
ity demands  sanitary  improvements  in  the  room." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  came  on  this  errand,  mad- 
am. We  employers  are  much  harassed  by  our 
employees,  and  when  the  ladies  of  the  city  take 
upon  themselves  inspection  and  interference 
with  matters  where  they  are  unacquainted,  it  is 
very  trying  to  us.  If  my  girls  do  not  like  the 
place,  let  them  leave  it ;  there  are  others." 

"  But  they  must  live.  They  leave  you,  and 
work  is  scarce  ;  they  stand  on  the  streets.  Why 
not  on  your  part  treat  them  humanely  ?" 

"  I  really  regret  that  a  lady  should  meddle 
on  hearsay." 

"  I  am  not  meddling  on  hearsay.  I  know 
what  I  am  speaking  about.  I  work  in  that  room. 
I  am  one  of  the  pasters." 

The  man  looked  confounded,  then  recovered 
himself 


94  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  If  that  is  so,  let  me  say  that  I  do  not  allow 
my  hands  to  dictate  to  me.  Good-day.  You 
will  be  fined  for  lateness." 

The  girls  up  stairs  greeted  the  self-appointed 
ambassadress  with  ironical  laughter.  "  How  do 
you  like  owners  ?"  "  That 's  the  way  rich  ones 
treat  poor  ones."  "  Did  he  ask  the  honor  of 
dancing  with  you,  or  give  you  a  bouquet,  as 
you're  accustomed  to  have  gentlemen  do?" 
"Well,  it  was  plucky  of  you,  all  the  same." 
"  But  it  wont  work."  "  Why  did  n't  you  try  a 
little  Scripture  on  him  ?  " 

Deborah  had  been  two  weeks  in  the  pasting- 
room  when  one  noon  Dick  Kegan  waited  on 
the  corner  for  Uncle  Josiah.  "  It  wont  do ; 
you  '11  have  to  take  her  out.  This  morning  she 
fainted  in  that  den." 

Uncle  Josiah  turned  pale  and  hurried  home. 
"  Deborah,  you  are  not  going  back  to  that  place. 
You  fainted  to-day." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  Dick  Kegan.    That  ends  it." 

"  Other  girls  faint  and  go  back ;  they  have 
to." 

"You  don't  have  to — yet.  You'll  wait  for 
more  reasonable  occupation.  I  was  just  won- 
dering how  I  should  use  an  extra  five  dollars 
that  I've  come  into.  We'll  take  a  street-car 
and  ride  all  around  the  city,  outside  of  the  city, 


CRUMBS.  95 

and  end  up  with  taking  an  oyster  tea.  Nurse 
Jamieson,  you  need  not  look  for  us  back  to  tea." 

"But,  uncle!  other  girls — working  girls — 
can't  have  such  treats." 

"  That  is  no  reason  you  should  not.  Besides, 
brought  up  as  you  were,  you  need  it.  Come 
on,  Deborah,  do  as  I  say.  Next  week  will  be 
Christmas.  We  '11  go  where  our  attic  things  are 
stored  and  get  out  some  more,  and  we'll  buy 
candy  and  fruit  and  clothing  and  so  on,  with 
ten  dollars  that  have  been  given  to  me  for  the 
purpose,  and  we  '11  get  ready  for  a  Christmas 
tree  at  my  Mission — the  first  one  for  that 
slum." 

Deborah  came  back  from  that  outing  looking 
quite  herself,  but  she  recalled  a  year  past  and 
thought  how  scornfully  she  would  have  rejected 
a  street-car,  oysters  in  a  plain  restaurant,  and 
buying  flannel,  jackets,  shirts,  coarse  woollen 
socks,  and  little  hoods  and  coats  for  the  wild 
brood  that  came  irregularly  to  Uncle  Josiah's 
"  Day  star  Mission." 

"The  search  for  work  is  to  begin  again," 
sighed  Deborah. 

"  You  '11  rest  a  week  first,"  said  her  uncle. 

"  I  've  earned  four  dollars  and  ninety-five 
cents  in  two  weeks,"  said  Deborah,  "  and  if  I 
rest  a  week  I  shall  be  just  a  dollar  and  five  cents 
behind  with  the  rent  money." 


c/>  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Never  mind.  We  will  find  some  way  of 
making  it  up,"  said  Uncle  Josiah  carelessly. 

In  a  day  or  two  a  note  came  to  Deborah 
from  the  Consolidated  Charities,  where  she  had 
left  her  application  for  work  a  month  before. 
An  assistant  was  needed  at  the  Day  Nursery  on 
Blondel  Street,  in  their  ward.  Wages  two  dol- 
lars and  a  half,  breakfast  and  dinner.  No  work 
on  Sunday,  as  then  the  children  were  at  home, 
except  three  or  four,  for  whom  the  matron  cared. 

Nurse  Jamieson  and  Deborah  went  to  look 
at  it.  Deborah  knew  no  more  about  the  care  of 
children  than  she  did  about  the  raising  of  bees. 
But  she  must  do  something.  The  little  brick 
house  was  clean,  the  floors  were  well  scrubbed, 
the  bare  little  dining-room  was  neat ;  the  school- 
room, where  a  young  girl  held  a  kindergarten, 
was  quite  bright  and  pretty.  Up  stairs  were 
the  matron's  neat  room  and  two  nursery  rooms, 
one  full  of  little  cots,  the  other  provided  with 
rugs,  toys,  and  chairs.  In  the  third  story  was  the 
housemaid's  room,  the  bath-room,  the  clothes- 
room.  The  matron,  housemaid,  and  assistant 
nurse  were  expected  to  do  all  the  work  for  the 
house  and  twenty-five  children  from  five  years 
old  down  to  two  weeks  old.  The  kindergarten 
teacher  taught  the  older  ten  three  hours  each 
morning,  five  days  in  a  week,  for  six  dollars  a 
week  and  her  dinner. 


CRUMBS.  97 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  children?" 
asked  the  matron. 

"  No,  nothing,"  said  Deborah. 

"  You  look  sensible  and  capable,"  said  the 
matron,  "  but  not  very  companionable." 

Deborah  smiled.  "  I  might  learn  to  be  com- 
panionable." 

"  She  looks  what  she  is,  a  warld  too  guid  for 
the  work  !"  cried  Nurse  Jamieson  angrily. 

"  Hush,  Agnes  dear,"  said  Deborah.  "  No 
one  is  too  good  for  the  work  of  taking  care  of 
little  children." 

"That  is  right,"  said  the  matron,  "'for 
whoso  receiveth  one  such  little  child,'  our 
Lord  says,  '  receiveth  me.'  Well,  you  can  come 
and  try  it.  Our  last  nurse  was  a  nice  girl ;  and 
one  of  the  managers  took  her  for  her  own 
nursery,  at  three  and  a  half  a  week." 

"What  are  your  duties,  Deborah,  in  your 
new  place  ?"  asked  her  uncle  after  a  few  days. 

Deborah  laughed.  "  I  get  there  at  half-past 
six,  and  then  the  mothers  begin  to  hand  the 
children  in.  Most  of  them  have  to  be  scrubbed 
and  combed ;  all  of  them  have  their  dresses, 
aprons,  shoes  and  stockings  changed  for  nursery 
clothing.  The  little  bits  of  ones  we  lay  in 
cradles  or  cribs  and  give  them  their  bottles. 
Then  at  eight  o'clock  the  matron  and  I  go  to 
breakfast  with  the  rest.  We  have  coffee,  por- 

Mr.  Orosvenor's  Daughter.  'I 


98  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ridge,  potatoes,  milk-gravy,  and  bread  and  but. 
ter.  The  children  drink  milk  and  we  get  coffee. 
All  day  long  we  rock  babies,  wrestle  with  the 
colic,  adjust  quarrels,  bathe  bumps,  dose  the 
sick  ones,  dress  burns  or  cuts  that  they  get  at 
home,  put  liniment  on  sore  throats.  Almost 
all  of  the  children  have  something  the  matter 
with  them.  Bad  fare,  bad  air,  hard  work, 
worry,  do  n't  produce,  it  seems,  very  healthy  or 
merry  children.  But  we  have  some  real  pretty, 
sweet-tempered  ones.  The  air  is  kept  good 
and  the  house  is  comfortably  heated.  I  have 
found  out  that  I  can  sing  crying  babies  to  sleep, 
that  I  know  how  to  explain  pictures  and  to  tell 
stories.  I  can  even  build  up  a  tower  of  blocks  ! 
You  told  me  to  earn  twenty  dollars  a  month.  I 
earn  ten  and  two  meals  daily.  After  I  pay  our 
rent  I  shall  have  two  dollars  a  month  for  cloth- 
ing. Will  that  keep  me  in  shoes,  I  wonder?  " 


"  SON,  REMEMBER."  99 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"SON,   REMEMBER." 

"  According  to  metaphysical  creed, 
To  the  earliest  books  that  children  read 

For  much  good  or  bad  they  are  debtors. 
But  before  with  their  A,  B,  C's  they  start 
There  are  things  in  morals,  as  well  as  heart, 
That  play  a  very  important  part — 

Impressions — before  the  letters." 

"  WHAT  !  you  here  ? "  It  was  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  Deborah  answered  the  front-door  bell  of 
the  "  Day  Nursery."  The  matron  was  not  well, 
and  Deborah  had  come  to  take  her  place  for  part 
of  the  day,  as  ten  children  whose  mothers 
worked  in  hotels  and  restaurants  were  left  at  the 
Nursery  over  Sabbath.  When  Deborah  opened 
the  door  she  found  on  the  steps,  waiting,  the 
English  woman,  Mrs.  Hodge,  who  had  worked 
in  the  pasting-room.  Deborah  was  now  becom- 
ing accustomed  to  uncourtly  greetings  which 
would  have  shocked  Miss  Grosvenor.  To  her 
surprise,  she  felt  her  heart  warming  towards  this 
big  uncouth  creature  whose  hard  life  she  under- 
stood from  experiences  of  its  pains,  and  whose 
sufferings  she  had  shared. 

"  I  am  here,  Mrs.  Hodge ;  come  in.  What 
can  be  done  for  you?" 


ioo  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  My  niece  that  I  live  with  was  taken  to  the 
hospital  last  night,  and  has  left  two  little  chil- 
dren— one  six  months,  one  two  and  a  half  years 
old — on  my  hands.  I  'm  the  only  one  now  to  do 
for  them,  for  her  man  ran  away  just  before  the 
baby  was  born.  There 's  a  boy  that  gets  two 
and  a  quarter  a  week,  and  if  I  can  get  the  chil- 
dren nursed,  so  I  can  keep  on  at  the  factory, 
we  '11  do." 

"  The  Nursery  is  pretty  full,"  said  Deborah, 
"  but  I  '11  go  to  the  matron  and  see  that  she  takes 
your  babies ;  it  is  a  desperate  case  surely.  And 
how  are  you  getting  on  at  the  factory  ?" 

"  It 's  a  bit  better  now.  Just  after  you  left  a 
long  piece  came  out  in  two  of  the  city  papers, 
all  about  our  place.  It  told  about  the  bad  air  and 
the  girls  fainting,  how  two  had  died  and  nobody 
cared,  and  it  had  a  big  heading,  '  LEGAL  MUR- 
DER,' '  MODERN  BUTCHERY,'  '  KILL  THE  GIRLS, 
THEY  'RE  PLENTY,'  and  so  on.  Oh !  I  tell  you  it 
was  real  fine  reading !  And  folks  began  to  talk, 
and  a  committee  came  to  see,  and  one  girl  by  good 
luck  fainted  right  before  their  eyes.  So  such  a 
fuss  was  made  that  the  place  was  cleaned  up 
and  ventilated,  and  we  do  a  bit  better.  Did  you 
put  that  in  the  paper,  miss?" 

"  No,  indeed,  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  and 
then  Deborah  remembered  that  she  had  seen 
Uncle  Josiah  writing  sheets  of  foolscap  late  one 


"SON,  REMEMBER."  IOI 

evening,  just  after  she  left  the  pasting-room. 
Perhaps  Uncle  Josiah  had  taken  it  in  hand.  But 
she  did  not  ask. 

"  May  I  bring  the  children  in  to  show  you  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Hodge.  "  I  left  them  on  the  curb- 
stone at  the  corner." 

"  By  all  means  get  them ;  they  '11  freeze 
there  this  cold  day.  I  will  go  up  and  speak 
about  them  to  the  matron  while  you  are  gone." 

"  We  '11  make  room  for  them,"  said  Deborah, 
as  she  admitted  Mrs.  Hodge  and  a  pair  of  half- 
tidy,  healthy-looking  babies,  with  rosy  English 
cheeks,  blooming  like  hardy  exotics  among  the 
paler  American  children. 

"  Boys,"  said  Mrs.  Hodge,  "  both  of  'em,  and 
I  'm  glad  of  that ;  women  and  girls  have  it 
hard,  too  hard,  in  this  life.  Their  names  are 
Edward  and  Reuben." 

"  I  think  the  men  have  it  about  as  bad  ;  they 
seem  to  have  more  temptations,  or  yield  more 
to  them,  to  commit  crimes.  Think  of  the  great 
penitentiaries  full !"  cried  Deborah. 

"  Yes,  but  did  you  ever  go  to  the  Women's 
Penitentiary  ?  Sixteen  hundred  women,  from 
sixteen  to  seventy  years  old,  in  for  long  terms 
and  short  terms.  That's  a  sight!  There  are 
children  born  in  prison  who  see  no  other  place 
till  they  are  five  or  six  years  old,  poor  things. 
That 's  a  lot  for  the  sons  and  daughters  of 


102  MR.  GROSVENOR  S  DAUGHTER. 

women  to  be  born  to,  miss !  Who  'd  want  to  be 
a  mother  at  that  rate  ?  I  sat  down  and  cried 
hearty  when  these  babies  come  to  town.  What 
are  they  like  to  come  to  ?"  A  great  compassion 
for  these  two  babes  of  "  the  masses "  over- 
whelmed Deborah's  soul.  She  had  been  behind 
the  scenes ;  she  knew  the  privation,  the  misery, 
the  temptation  that  would  meet  them  on  every 
hand.  "  Mrs.  Hodge,"  she  said,  "  the  very  great- 
est misery  is  being  wicked.  The  bad  man 
makes  himself  wretched  and  increases  the 
wretchedness  of  others.  Look  at  the  father  of 
these  children.  If  he  had  been  honest,  good, 
industrious,  and  had  stood  by  his  wife  like  a 
man,  she  and  these  little  ones  would  have  been 
safe  and  comfortable." 

"  Ay.  You  speak  like  a  book,  miss." 
"  Then  your  first  effort  must  be  to  bring  up 
these  little  fellows  to  be  good,  to  be  sober,  dili- 
gent, honest.  They  will  be  in  the  midst  of  all 
kinds  of  temptation,  and  unless  you  get  help 
from  God  and  try  to  bring  them  up  in  his  fear, 
they  will  fall  away.  Don't  let  them  go  to  de- 
struction, Mrs.  Hodge.  Go  to  the  church  with 
them ;  pray  for  them ;  teach  them  about  God. 
Read  the  Bible  to  them.  You  '11  help  them  and 
yourself  that  way." 

"  I  'm  not  much  of  a  hand  at  religion ;  I  've 
got  hardened  seeing  so  much  misery.     But   I 


"SON,   REMEMBER."  IO3 

wish,  miss,  you  could  try  your  hand  on  these 
boys'  older  half-brother.  He's  fifteen,  and  a 
pretty  good  boy,  but  now  just  at  the  age  where 
boys  are  led  off,  and  unless  some  one  takes  hold 
of  him  pretty  sharp,  he  will  go  to  the  dogs  like 
the  rest.  Oliver  his  name  is,  Oliver  Hunt." 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  would  go  to  the  Mission 
with  me  this  afternoon,  if  I  should  call  for  him  ?" 

There 's  no  telling.  But  if  you  '11  let  me 
know  the  time  you  '11  come  for  him,  1 11  try 
and  keep  him  at  home.  I  '11  make  him  a  potato- 
cake  ;  that  will  hold  him  till  you  get  there.  I  '11 
send  him  after  a  dozen  of  potatoes  as  soon  as  I 
get  back." 

"Why  it's  Sunday!"  exclaimed  Deborah. 

"  Eh  !  Do  n't  you  buy  things  Sunday?  Well 
there's  plenty  of  shops  open  all  day  in  our 
quarter,  more  shops  than  dimes  to  buy  with.  I 
do  wish  you  could  get  hold  of  my  boy,  miss. 
There  is  something  strong-like  in  you,  and 
maybe  you  could  make  a  man  of  him.  Just 
think  of  the  difference  it  will  make,  a  hearty 
fellow  like  that,  with  perhaps  sixty  or  seventy 
years  before  him,  whether  he 's  bad  or  good !" 

Deborah's  face  glowed  at  this  suggestion. 
What  is  that  multitude  of  sins,  hidden  or  pre- 
vented, by  "whoso  converts  a  sinner  from  the 
error  of  his  ways !"  And  youth  is  the  age  of 
hope. 


104  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  I  have  heard  you  speak  of  this  boy,  Oliver 
I  think  you  called  him.  I  will  do  all  I  can  for 
him,  Mrs.  Hodge." 

"  Ay ;  keep  him  away  from  bad  men  and 
from  drink.  Take  him  to  the  Mission ;  see 
what  religion  will  do  for  him.  Only,  for  my 
part,  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  religion  that 
allows  such  goings-on  as  I  see  reg'lar." 

"  Religion  does  not  allow  it.  True  religion 
would  prevent  these  miseries  and  evils,  for  the 
laws  and  spirit  of  the  gospel  are  all  in  behalf  of 
helpfulness  and  benevolence.  The  trouble  is 
that  there  is  too  little  of  true  religion,  not 
enough  of  the  tender,  helpful  Christ  spirit ;  our 
religion  is  not  deeply  rooted  in  our  lives,  not 
rich  enough  in  fruit-bearing.  Oh  I  once  was 
rich  and  could  have  helped  you !  Now  I  can  do 
so  little !" 

"It  helps  me  just  to  talk  with  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Hodge  gratefully. 

"  If  I  had  back  my  wealth  would  I  be  an 
idler  as  before  ?"  Deborah  asked  herself  as  she 
dismissed  Mrs.  Hodge,  telling  her  to  bring  the 
children  around  to  the  Nursery  early  in  the 
morning. 

That  afternoon  at  two  o'clock  Deborah 
climbed  the  dirty  stairs  leading  to  Mrs.  Hodge's 
rooms.  Evidently  the  place  had  been  newly 
swept  and  garnished  in  expectation  of  her  visit. 


"SON,   REMEMBER."  10$ 

The  best  room,  the  one  that  had  the  rag  carpet 
on  it,  was  in  possession  of  the  children  ;  the  boy 
Oliver  was  walking  up  and  down  trying  to  put 
the  baby  to  sleep.  In  the  kitchen,  yet  wet  from 
a  mopping,  Mrs.  Hodge  was  washing  the  frying- 
pan  wherein  she  had  cooked  her  potato-cakes. 

"  Here  's  Oliver,"  said  Mrs.  Hodge.  "  Oliver, 
it 's  you  the  lady  came  for." 

Oliver  looked  angry :  in  his  experience  ladies 
ran  about  after  very  naughty  boys  and  gave 
them  reproofs  and  peppermints  and  took  them 
to  schools  where  they  were  "faulted."  Oliver 
felt  himself  a  man ;  he  was  earning  his  bread, 
and  since  his  step-father  decamped  no  one  tried 
to  rule  him. 

Deborah  saw  that  she  must  gain  favor.  She 
cast  a  radiant  smile  on  Oliver,  such  as  she  had 
not  often  vouchsafed  to  golden  youth  in  her 
days  of  splendor. 

"  How  well  you  handle  that  child ! "  she 
cried.  "  Do  you  know,  once  I  read  that  being 
able  to  handle  a  baby  well  was  a  true  mark  of  a 
gentleman." 

"  You  can't  even  me  with  a  gentleman,"  said 
the  boy,  flushing. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh — well — I  'm  poor  and  live  among  poor 
folks,  and — 

"  Listen  to  this — 


106  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

4  The  best  of  men 

That  e'er  wore  earth  about  him  was  a  sufferer — 
A  soft,  meek,  patient,  humble,  tranquil,  spirit : 
The  first  true  gentleman  that  ever  breathed.' 

Do  you  know  whom  I  mean,  Oliver?  " 

"  No,  miss." 

"  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ — who  was  both  God 
and  man ;  he  was  poor  and  lived  among  the 
poor.  He  was  tender  with  little  children.  I 
like  to  think  of  Him  taking  children  in  his 
arms  and  blessing  them:  calling  a  little  child 
and  '  setting  him  in  the  midst.'  " 

"  Yes,  miss ;  I  've  seen  the  picture  of  that  in 
the  shop  windows !  " 

"So  you  like  pictures?  And  do  you  like 
singing  ? " 

"  Ay,  when  I  can  hear  the  words  out  fairly 
like." 

"  This  afternoon  I  am  going  to  sing  at  the 
Daystar  Mission.  I  think  you  would  like  it 
there.  I  came  to  invite  you  to  go  with  me." 

"Yes,  Oliver  lad,  give  me  the  baby  an'  go 
with  miss." 

"  I  'm  not  fine  enough,"  said  Oliver,  survey- 
ing himself. 

"  Indeed,  you  are,"  said  Deborah.  "  We  have 
very  few  at  the  Daystar  as  well  dressed  as  you 
are.  If  you  '11  come,  perhaps  some,  seeing  you 
go  in,  may  think  it  respectable  enough  for  them 


"SON,   REMEMBER."  IO/ 

to  come  too.     I  'm  sure  you  '11  like  it,  and  be  a 
help.     Can  you  sing  ?  " 

"You  should  just  hear  him  troll  out  the 
Waits  I  taught  him,"  said  Mrs.  Hodge  proudly. 
"  When  he  was  a  bit  lad  of  five,  in  England,  I 
took  him  round  with  the  Waits  one  Christmas, 
and  the  quality  gave  him  five  shillings." 

"  Quality !  No  more  quality  than  we  are," 
cried  Oliver  crossly. 

"We  can  all  of  us  be  of  a  good  quality,  I 
hope,"  said  Deborah. 

"Go  with  miss,"  urged  Dame  Hodge;  "you 
are  fine  and  clean.  He  is  mighty  particular 
about  being  clean,  miss." 

"Clean  outside  and  clean  inside  is  it?"  said 
Deborah,  with  a  keen  bright  look  that  quite  cap- 
tivated Oliver. 

"  If  I  might  do  my  hair  a  bit  and  black  my 
shoes,"  he  replied,  laying  the  child  gently  on 
the  patch-work  quilt  of  the  bed. 

"  Certainly,  I  '11  wait,"  said  Deborah.  "  Mrs. 
Hodge,  who  else  are  in  this  house  ?  Any  one 
that  I  know  ?  " 

"  Well,  big  Jean,  from  the  pasting-room  ;  do 
you  mind  her  ?  the  big  girl  with  the  close-crop- 
ped red  curls." 

"  Oh,  is  Jean  here  !  I  want  to  see  her.  I  have 
thought  of  her  so  often,  and  last  night  I  dreamed 
of  her,  and  I  woke  feeling  that  I  had  neglected 


io8          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

an  opportunity  in  not  looking  her  up.  But,  do 
you  know,  I  'm  pretty  much  of  a  coward,  and  I 
heard  so  much  about  her  getting  drunk  and 
being  furious." 

"Ay.  She's  had  one  outbreak  since  you 
left  the  room,  and  two  weeks  back  she  came 
here,  just  to  get  out  of  temptation  of  some 
drinking  girls,  I  do  believe.  Her  room  is  oppo- 
site." 

"  I  '11  go  and  speak  to  her  while  Oliver  gets 
ready." 

Mrs.  Hodge  approved.  She  wanted  a  clear 
coast  that  she  might  give  Oliver  his  mother's 
best  handkerchief  and  necktie  to  make  him 
fine. 

Deborah  knocked  at  the  opposite  door. 

"Come  in  then!"  said  big  Jean.  "You've 
hunted  me  out,  have  you  ?  " 

Deborah  opened  the  door.  The  room  was 
most  desolate.  Across  the  foot  of  the  bed  lay 
Jean,  partly  on  her  face,  her  strong  white  arms 
flung  up  over  her  head.  She  spoke  without  see- 
ing who  entered.  "  I  came  here  to  get  rid  of 
ye ;  but  Sunday  's  my  worst  day,  and  Satan  knew 
it  and  he  sent  you  along.  That's  the  way  it 
goes." 

"  God  sent  me,"  said  Deborah,  speaking  out 
clearly.  "Jean,  if  a  soul  is  striving  against 
evil,  it  is  because  the  Spirit  of  God  strives  in  it. 


"SON,  REMEMBER."  109 

Is  Sunday  your  worst  day  ?  Come  then  with 
me  where  you  will  get  help." 

Jean  suddenly  sat  up  and  looked  at  her. 
"You,  miss!"  She  was  about  to  cry,  "You, 
Deborah,"  as  to  her  other  acquaintances,  but 
Deborah  in  her  severely  plain  but  good  Sun- 
day gear  subdued  her. 

"  I  came  for  Oliver,  Mrs.  Hodge's  nephew,  to 
go  to  Mission  School.  Mrs.  Hodge  said  you 
were  here,  and  I  came  for  you  too.  Come." 

Jean  gave  a  hard  laugh.  "  Me  at  Mission ! 
At  a  bar,  more  likely." 

"  Come,"  said  Deborah  insistently.  "  I  'm 
going  to  sing  '  My  Ain  Countree '  and  '  The 
Land  o'  the  Leal."  Jean  hung  her  head.  "  And 
'  The  Lord  my  Shepherd  is,'  added  Deborah. 

"  My  mither  used  to  cradle  me  wi'  that,"  said 
Jean,  looking  up. 

"Perhaps  the  Good  Shepherd  is  using  it 
now  to  call  his  wandering  sheep  home." 

"  Go  away  and  leave  me,"  said  Jean.  "  I  'm 
no  good.  I  can't  be  helped.  The  craze  for 
drink  is  strong  in  me.  I  just  cast  myself  here 
and  cried  out,  '  God,  let  me  die !'  " 

"  And  perhaps  he  has  answered,  '  Live,  my 
child.'  Come,  Jean." 

"  I  'm  not  fit  to  be  seen  in  the  street  wi'  you." 

The  soul  of  Deborah  was  seized  with  a 
strong  passion  of  saving  another  soul.  She  went 


1 10  MR.   GROSVENORS  DAUGHTER. 

to  Jean  and  laid  her  small  gloved  hand  upon 
her  shoulder.  "  Come,  I  cannot  let  you  perish 
for  whom  Christ  died.  Come,  Jean,  I  beg. 
Come  to  the  Mission.  Come  home  to  tea  with  me. 
Nurse  Jamieson  is  Scotch.  She  will  bring  back 
to  you  mother  and  home." 

So  Deborah  went  to  the  Daystar  Mission 
with  those  two,  Oliver  Hunt  and  Jean.  What 
would  she  have  thought  a  year  before  if  she 
could  have  foreseen  herself  so  accompanied  ? 

"Jean,"  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  make  up 
your  mind  that  I  am  going  to  look  after  you." 

"  You  '11  have  a  hard  time  of  it,"  said  Jean. 
"Sunday  is  my  worst  day,  having  nothing  to 
do ;  but  I  'm  only  a  plague  at  the  best  of  times. 
I  keep  a  body  always  uncertain — when  I  'm 
sober  wondering  when  I  will  get  drunk ;  and 
when  I  'm  drunk  wondering  when  I  '11  get  sober. 
Why  were  people  made  so!  I  feel  as  if  God 
himself  couldn't  help  me !  " 

"  But  he  can ;  nothing  is  impossible  with 
God." 

"  I  say,"  said  Oliver  carelessly,  "  looks  kind 
of  sneaking  to  let  a  habit  get  the  better  of  you 
and  make  you  a  slave." 

"  So  it  does,"  said  Deborah,  "  but  where  do 
habits  begin  ?  Any  one  who  does  what  is  evi- 
dently wrong — swears,  listens  to  vile  talk,  breaks 
the  Sabbath,  lies,  cheats,  whether  once  or  often- 


"SON,  REMEMBER."  Ill 

er — may  be  laying  the  foundation  of  a  habit ;  and 
it  seems  to  be,  as  you  say,  rather  sneaking  to  do 
what  we  know  to  be  wrong  and  that  we  need 
not  do." 

Oliver's  ears  grew  very  red  :  the  conversation 
had  taken  an  unexpected  turn  and  was  nearing 
home! 

Later  Deborah  found  time  to  say  to  him  pri- 
vately, "  Oliver,  watch  over  Jean ;  go  and  talk 
to  her  in  the  evenings ;  ask  Mrs.  Hodge  to  in- 
vite her  into  your  rooms.  If  you  see  her  on  the 
street,  walk  home  with  her.  You  may  be  help- 
ing God  to  save  a  soul." 

"  What  I  ?  I  help  God,  miss  ?  Oh  surely ! " 
stammered  the  boy.  Life  for  him  had  taken  on 
a  new  dignity. 

During  January  and  February  Dives'  daugh- 
ter was  assistant  in  the  Day  Nursery.  In  the 
latter  part  of  February  measles  of  an  aggravated 
type  broke  out  in  the  neighborhood  of  Romaine 
Court.  All  the  children  at  the  Nursery  were 
seized ;  mothers  lost  their  places  by  being  kept 
from  their  work  to  care  for  the  sick  babies,  and 
a  deeper  poverty  complicated  their  disasters. 
Soon  the  unsanitary  condition  of  the  homes  told 
in  an  outbreak  of  scarlet  fever  and  diphtheria : 
foul  sinks  and  closets,  clogged  drains,  dirty  walls, 
floors  rotting  from  long  neglect  or  washing  with 
filthy  water,  windows  that  would  not  open, 


ii2          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

clothing  worn  until  it  fell  to  tatters — these  lay 
as  the  background  of  the  pestilence.  The 
Board  of  Health  distributed  leaflets  that  were 
for  the  most  part  unread,  sent  people  about  to 
whitewash  and  fumigate,  and  the  Dispensaries 
were  besieged ;  but  what  were  these  efforts 
against  a  scourge  that  had  been  bred  in  the 
midst  of  long  neglect,  and  was  now  practically 
fostered  by  ignorance  ? 

Deborah's  work  at  the  Nursery  was  for  the 
present  done.  Only  three  or  four  motherless 
little  ones  were  kept  there  under  care  of  the 
matron.  But  there  was  work  enough  for 
Deborah,  work  into  which  duty  and  compassion 
drew  her,  for  it  seemed  as  if  there  was  scarcely 
a  house  where  there  was  not  one  dead.  How 
pitiful  were  those  homes,  where  on  a  board,  or 
on  two  chairs,  or  on  the  sole  bed,  some  little 
rigid  form  lay  under  a  rag  of  white  cloth,  while 
around  its  stillness  the  daily  toil  of  cooking, 
washing,  scrubbing  must  go  on,  else  where 
would  be  bread  for  the  other  mouths  ? 

Deborah  unconsciously  was  taking  lessons 
in  nursing  in  these  doleful  days,  and  was  over- 
coming some  of  her  painful  squeamishness 
about  the  sights  and  surroundings  in  these  pov- 
erty-stricken homes. 

"Who  is  she?"  said  the  Dispensary  doctor 
to  Mrs.  Werner,  after  he  had  found  Deborah 


"SON,   REMEMBER."  113 

several  times  helping  the  Swede  with  the  baby 
and  little  Berta,  who  were  both  ill ;  and  now  for 
the  first  time  Berta  had  leisure  to  play  with  the 
big  doll  which  had  once  been  Deborah's  toy, 
and  which  the  small  feverish  hands  now  clasped 
and  stroked  with  great  delight. 

Mrs.  Werner  replied,  "  She  rich  young  lady, 
play  poor.  She  work ;  but  have  three  rooms, 
and  no  cook,  no  wash ;  how  she  be  very  poor, 
eh  ?  Oh  she  lofley,  an'  do  so  much  good,  what 
tings  she  know ;  but  she  not  know  ferry  much. 
Rich  folks  is  like  that,  eh  ?" 

Going  her  rounds  among  families  whom  she 
knew  because  the  children  had  been  at  the 
Nursery,  Deborah  found  Mrs.  Hodge  over- 
whelmed  with  the  care  of  two  sick  little  ones. 
Their  mother  was  still  in  the  hospital.  If  Mrs. 
Hodge  gave  up  her  work  in  the  pasting-room 
where  would  be  bread  ? 

How  were  the  babies  cared  for?  Oliver, 
Mrs.  Hodge,  Jean,  took  half-days  off  and  nursed 
the  little  sufferers,  and  a  woman  in  the  house 
whose  husband  took  care  of  his  family,  so  that 
the  mother  could  give  her  time  to  her  little 
ones,  would  bring  two  sick  babies,  and  with  one 
in  her  arms  and  one  laid  on  chairs,  would  attend 
to  the  two  in  the  bed !  Hard  times  for  babies, 
these,  good  people !  At  night  Jean  seemed 
tireless  in  sitting  up.  "  I  like  it,"  she  said  to 

Mr  GroBv«nor's  Daughter.  8 


ii4         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Deborah.     "  I  get  tired  out  and  I  slee^> 

and  I  feel  as  if  I  am  some  good,  and  I  do  n't 

think  of  drinking." 

One  evening  late  Uncle  Josiah  went  to  see 
Mrs.  Hodge  with  Deborah  ;  the  younger  baby 
was  at  the  point  of  death.  Oliver  sat  with  the 
child  on  his  knees.  Tears  were  in  his  eyes. 

"You  love  the  little  fellow,  don't  you,  Oli- 
ver?" said  Deborah. 

"  I  like  all  little  children,  and  cats  and  dogs 
and  pigeons,  and  when  I  think  of  my  mother  I 
love  these  little  chaps;  but  when  I  think  of 
their  dad,  I  can't  bear  'em,  for  I  hate  him.  If 
he  comes  back  I  '11  pitch  him  down  stairs.  He 
is  a  low  fellow.  He  has  kicked  and  hit  me  his 
last,  you  bet !"  The  boy's  face  showed  an  omi- 
nous passion  of  wrath. 

"Oliver,"  said  Deborah,  "the  Bible  tells  us 
not  to  avenge  ourselves,  but  rather  to  give  place 
unto  wrath." 

"  I  do,"  said  Oliver,  "  I  give  it  place  till  I  'm 
chock  full  up  to  the  brim  and  running  over 
with  it ! " 

Deborah  could  not  forbear  a  smile.  "  Oliver, 
if  you  saw  a  mad  dog  coming  down  the  street 
at  you,  how  would  you  give  it  place  ?  " 

"  I  'd  jump  out  of  the  way  quicker  an'  let  it 
goby!" 

"  That  is  the  way  to  give  place  unto  wrath. 


"SON,   REMEMBER."  11$ 

Let  it  go  by.  Give  it  place  to  pass,  not  to  lodge. 
That  is  what  God  wants  of  you." 

A  low  sound  from  the  sick  baby's  cot  at- 
tracted their  attention.  "  Bless  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Hodge,  "  he 's  going." 

Jean  was  on  her  knees  by  the  little  one,  look- 
ing earnestly  into  the  glazing  eyes  and  blanch- 
ing face.  "  Oh  why  did  n't  I  go  so  when  I  was 
little !  Why  did  I  live  !  Oh  how  happy  the  baby 
is  to  go  before  the  time  of  sin !  Wont  it  be 
strange  to  wake  out  of  this  room  into  heaven  !" 

Deborah  stood  awed.  She  found  death  very 
pitiful  here. 

They  went  away  home  leaving  the  little  one 
with  folded  hands,  laid  in  a  clean  white  gown, 
on  the  only  table,  and  all  the  weary  family  lying 
asleep  around  it. 

"  Deborah,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  to  divert  her 
mind,  "  you  have  some  teaching  ability ;  you 
explained  that  point  well  to  Oliver." 

"  Yes,"  said  Deborah  humbly,  "  I  might 
teach  if  I  really  knew  anything.  All  I  know  is 
a  product  of  association.  I  cannot  conjugate  a 
French  or  an  English  verb  correctly.  I  doubt 
if  I  could  do  an  example  in  compound  multipli- 
cation. It  is  a  great  misfortune  to  be  brought 
up  as  I  was." 

"You  are  learning  great  lessons  now,  my 
child." 


Il6  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Deborah  thought  lessons  multiplied  when 
Nurse  Agnes  fell  ill  of  bronchitis,  and  Deborah 
had  to  nurse  her  and  keep  the  house.  She  tried 
to  make  bread  and  failed  ignominiously.  She 
was  obliged  to  resort  to  Mrs.  Werner  to  ask  her 
to  do  the  simplest  things.  At  first  Agnes  re- 
fused to  allow  her  young  lady  to  wait  upon  her. 
But  after  a  long  and  somewhat  heated  private 
discussion  with  Uncle  Josiah,  she  yielded,  and 
Deborah  made  plasters  and  poultices  and 
spoiled  food  for  ten  days.  Then  suddenly  Jean 
appeared. 

"  I  've  come  to  do  the  work  here,"  she  said. 
"  You  do  n't  know  how,  miss,  and  it 's  too  much 
to  ask  of  you." 

"  But,  Jean,  we  can't  afford  to  pay  you,  and 
you  '11  lose  your  place  !" 

"  At  the  rubber?  Not  I.  I  'm  too  valuable. 
I  'm  the  strongest  girl  in  the  building.  Did  you 
hear  how  I  stopped  a  row  twice,  all  alone  ?  I 
can  go  back  when  I  please.  As  for  pay,  your 
uncle  paid  me  in  advance,  and  I  'd  have  come 
anyhow ;  it  may  keep  me  from  breaking  out. 
I  've  been  sober  eight  weeks !  " 

"  Just  to  think,"  said  Deborah  to  her  uncle, 
"  that  I  do  n't  even  know  how  to  do  our  little 
cooking  and  ironing!  And  I  find  that  the 
ignorance  of  very  rich  girls  is  matched  by  the 
ignorance  of  the  very  poor  girls.  The  poor 


"SON,   REMEMBER."  1 I? 

have  frequently  no  opportunity  for  learning, 
and  in  their  homes  much  of  the  sickness  and 
poverty  arises  from  the  lack  of  housekeeping 
knowledge.  They  waste  both  food  and  money. 
There  should  be  a  cooking-school  in  every 
ward  for  girls  and  boys  too.  When  the  mo- 
thers and  wives  are  ill  the  sons  and  husbands 
should  be  able  to  do  the  housework  and  keep 
things  comfortable.  The  girls  should  learn  how 
to  buy  and  cook  plain  wholesome  food." 

"  I  have  thought,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  that 
every  public  school  building  should  have  a  room 
for  a  cooking-school,  where  the  girls  and  lads  of 
the  ward  could  come  in  classes,  each  getting 
two  lessons  a  week.  A  range  should  be  pro- 
vided and  the  janitor  should  see  to  the  fires. 
Pupils  could  bring  provisions  to  cook  for  their 
own  families,  necessary  utensils  could  be  pro- 
vided, and  after  the  meal  was  prepared  and  the 
table  laid  the  pupils  could  share  the  product  of 
their  own  cooking." 

The  epidemic  passed  away ;  one  of  its  results 
was  great  poverty,  owing  to  the  loss  of  work  by 
the  poor  mothers.  Another  was  that  the  per- 
sons who  at  the  order  of  the  Board  of  Health 
came  about  and  applied  disinfectants  were  often 
so  careless  that  quilts  and  blankets  and  clothing 
and  bed-ticks  were  entirely  destroyed,  very  great 
suffering  resulting  from  this. 


ii8  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Finally  nurse  was  well,  and  Deborah  looked 
for  work  once  more.  She  found  a  place  in  a 
paper-box  factory  this  time,  and  with  no  Dick 
Kegan  to  tell  romances  about  her,  she  entered 
among  her  working  sisters  in  the  same  factory 
on  the  same  footing  as  the  rest.  They  called 
her  at  once  "  Proudy,"  because  she  spoke  gram- 
matically, had  clean  skin  and  tidy  garments, 
wore  gloves,  and  carried  a  sun  umbrella ! 

The  room  where  they  worked  was  a  top 
story  with  windows  only  in  the  roof.  The  cov- 
ering of  fancy  paper-boxes  and  putting  edges  of 
lace  paper  in  them  was  not  difficult  work,  and 
Deborah  soon  became  tolerably  expert.  The 
first  week  she  worked  for  nothing,  to  "  learn." 
The  next  week  she  was  fined  all  her  three  dol- 
lars' wages,  for  "imperfect  work."  The  third 
week  her  fines  were  fifty  cents.  Thus  in  three 
weeks  she  succeeded  in  earning  two  dollars  and 
a  half. 

The  air  of  the  work-room  was  warm,  but  not 
close,  as  the  windows  could  be  raised.  The 
girls,  seated  at  long  tables,  pursued  their  work 
quickly  and  mechanically.  They  were  not  quite 
as  wild  a  set  as  those  in  the  pasting-room  at  the 
rubber-factory,  but  terrified  Deborah  with  the 
boldness  and  freedom  of  their  conversation  and 
their  decided  preference  for  discussing  scandals. 

"  Why  do  n't  you  girls  talk  about  something 


"SON,   REMEMBER." 

nice  ?"  said  Deborah  one  day  desperately,  raising 
her  head  from  her  work.  "  Why  will  you  think 
and  talk  about  what  will  make  you  coarse  and 
vulgar  and  perhaps  utterly  bad?  We  are  here 
at  hard  work  ;  we  have  very  little  that  is  pleas- 
ant in  our  lives,  but  it  is  open  to  us  to  keep  our- 
selves decent  and  respectable.  Why  should  we 
working-girls  let  ourselves  run  down  in  manners 
and  morals?  Why  should  we  help  the  world 
to  keep  us  low  and  despised  ?  Why  should  we 
consent  to  be  the  worst,  and  not  the  best,  that  we 
can  ?" 

"  We  do  n't  aim  to  be  ladies,  Proudy,"  retort- 
ed one. 

"If  to  be  a  lady  is  to  be  something  nice  and 
desirable,  why  should  we  not  care  enough  for 
ourselves  to  aim  at  being  that?" 

"  Oh  we  can't  get  the  last  touch  in  manners, 
the  way  you  have  !" 

"  People  are  at  the  level  of  what  they  think 
about,  girls.  If  we  think  of  the  low,  the  foolish, 
the  vicious,  if  we  fill  our  minds  with  hate  and 
envy  and  meanness,  then  we  shall  be  mean  and 
low.  Let  us  think  and  talk  of  nice  things,  and 
so  we  shall  grow  nice." 

"  What  nice  things  have  we  to  think  about  ? 
Worn-out  stockings,  unpaid  rent,  drunken  dads, 
cold  winters,  hot  summers  ?  Give  us  something 
better  if  you  can,"  cried  the  girls. 


120  MR.   GROSVENOH'S   DAUGHTER. 

"She's  right,"  spoke  up  Martha,  who  had 
hitherto  been  silent.  "  I  have  always  hated  the 
talk  in  this  room,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  say  so." 

"  What  a  blessing  it  would  be  if  young  ladies 
who  have  leisure  would  only  come  here  and  read 
to  us,"  said  Deborah. 

"The  foreman  would  not  allow  it,"  said 
Martha. 

"  The  young  ladies  do  n't  care  enough  for  us 
to  try  it,  any  way,"  said  another  girl. 

"I  do  n't  want  'em  round  here,  turning  up 
noses  at  us,"  said  Dora. 

"  Now,  girls,  work  as  fast  as  you  can"  said 
Deborah  ;  "  let  us  all  make  our  fingers  fly ;  and  I 
will  tell  you  something  that  will  make  the 
hardest  lot  of  the  poorest  girl  here  seem  very 
easy  by  comparison.  You  will  from  what  I  tell 
you  learn  how  much  you  have  to  thank  God 
for,  how  many  blessings  we  all  have  about  us. 
Sometimes  hearing  of  real  hard  things  makes 
our  lot  seem  easier,  whatever  it  is.  My  story  is 
true ;  and  if  there  is  anything  in  it  that  you 
don't  understand  I'll  do  my  best  to  explain." 
She  began  the  story  of  Silvio  Pellico  and  his 
wonderful  prisons.  Oh  wonderful  story  of  undy- 
ing charm ! 


"THOU   RECEIVEDST  GOOD  THINGS."          121 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

"THOU   RECEIVEDST  GOOD  THINGS." 

"  I  built  my  soul  a  lordly  pleasure-house, 

Wherein  at  ease  for  aye  to  dwell ; 
I  said, '  O  soul,  make  merry,  and  carouse, 
Dear  soul,  for  all  is  well." 

DEBORAH  had  never  spent  a  summer  in  the 
city  except  that  last  one,  when  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  just  as  she  was  prepared  to  start  for  Sara- 
toga and  the  White  Mountains,  the  accident  had 
occurred  which  resulted  in  the  death  of  her 
parents  and  her  own  loss  of  fortune.  In  the 
cool,  shaded,  luxurious  house,  with  carriages 
ready  for  morning  and  evening  drives,  the  sum- 
mer in  the  city  had  not  been  unpleasant,  and 
Deborah  unconsciously  looked  forward  to  the 
warm  season  as  promising  great  ameliorations 
in  her  lot.  It  would  be  a  time  when  doors  and 
windows  could  be  open,  alive  with  mild  airs,  of 
birds  and  flowers,  when  the  walks  to  and  from 
her  work  would  be  a  pleasure,  not  a  pain.  Deb- 
orah had  fairly  suffered  from  the  cold  during 
her  winter  walks,  she  was  so  unused  to  exposure  ; 
and  yet  how  abundantly  she  was  provided  with 
warm  clothing  in  comparison  with  her  compan- 
ion daughters  of  the  poor !  She  did  not  realize 


122          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

that  in  the  crowded  quarters  of  the  city  the  open 
doors  and  windows  only  admitted  foul  odors, 
that  the  air  grew  heavy,  not  refreshing,  that 
there  were  no  birds  and  flowers  in  the  back 
courts  and  no-thoroughfares. 

Under  the  influence  of  her  dream  of  summer 
she  one  day  broke  out  into  song  over  her  work, 
a  little  song  about  violets  and  roses,  dells  and 
fountains,  wild-woods  and  birds  and  bees. 

"  A  pretty  song  that  is  to  sing  us !"  cried  one 
of  the  girls.  "What  do  we  know  of  such 
things  ?" 

„  "  Last  winter  I  was  sick,"  said  a  pale  girl 
named  Dora,  "  and  a  Bible-woman  came  to  see 
me.  Once  or  twice  a  young  lady  came  with  her, 
and  she  brought  me  some  books  to  amuse  me 
when  I  was  able  to  sit  up.  Some  of  them  I  un- 
derstood, some  I  did  not.  There  was  one  about 
a  very  rich  young  man,  who  had  a  great  splen- 
did home  in  the  country,  with  magnificent 
grounds.  He  invited  the  house  full  of  working- 
girls  and  young  men  for  three  weeks— nice  de- 
cent folks  who  were  worn  out  and  needed  rest, 
young  or  old;  he  gave  them  their  tickets  and 
nice  clothes  to  come  in.  After  three  weeks  they 
went  off,  and  he  brought  in  another  lot.  It  was 
like  life  from  the  dead  to  them  ;  it  cured  them 
up  and  made  it  possible  to  live  the  rest  of  the 
year." 


"THOU   RECEIVEDST  GOOD   THINGS. 


"  Holi  !  That  was  a  story.  Nothing  rez*.  like 
that  ever  happened.  Rich  folks  invite  poor 
folks  !  Humbug  !  They  invite  the  rich," 
laughed  one  of  the  girls. 

"  Then  they  do  exactly  what  the  Bible  for- 
bids," spoke  up  Deborah. 

"  Look  out  there  !"  cried  Martha.  "  Dora  's 
going  to  faint  !" 

Deborah's  strong  arm  caught  Dora  and  sup- 
ported her  to  the  window  ;  one  of  the  girls  took 
a  box-cover  and  fanned  her,  another  brought  a 
cup  of  water,  stale  and  nearly  tepid.  When 
Dora  was  a  little  revived  Deborah  said, 

"  Girls,  let  us  fix  her  up  comfortably  in  the 
window  and  let  her  rest,  and  we  will  all  be  extra 
quick  and  finish  up  her  pile  of  work  with  ours, 
so  that  she  will  not  lose  her  day's  wages.  Cheer 
up,  Dora  dear.  I  will  ask  you  home  to  tea  with 
me,  and  Uncle  Josiah  will  get  us  something  real 
good  and  refreshing." 

"  Well,  as  our  foreman  is  away  sick  to-day," 
said  Martha,  "  perhaps  we  can  give  Dora  a  lift. 
You  are  real  good  to  think  of  it." 

"  I  '11  work  part  of  my  noon-hour  and  do  a 
good  deal  of  the  work,"  said  Deborah  ;  "  I  'm  well 
and  strong." 

"  Do  you  suppose  anything  like  the  story  in 
Dora's  book  ever  really  happened  ?"  asked  Mar- 
tha; "I  do  n't" 


124  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  But  you  see,  girls,"  said  Dora  softly,  "  the 
young  man  had  once  been  poor  and  knew  how 
it  felt." 

"  Ah,  then  it  might  be,"  said  Martha. 

"  It  makes  me  think  of  Christ,  who  for  our 
sakes  became  poor,"  said  Deborah. 

It  was  not  always,  indeed  not  often,  that  the 
girls  could  thus  talk  while  they  worked.  Their 
foreman  was  particularly  captious,  and  whenever 
he  came  in  the  room  or  passed  along  the  hall, 
when  connected  conversation  was  going  on,  he 
stopped  it  peremptorily,  threatening  fines  or 
discharge.  He  seemed  to  have  some  grudge 
against  Deborah,  and  was  given  to  tart  remarks 
for  her  peculiar  benefit.  The  superiority  of  her 
language  and  manner  ruffled  him,  and  perhaps 
in  all  her  experience  nothing  was  so  galling  to 
Mr.  Grosvenor's  daughter  as  the  rough,  sharp, 
or  coarse  familiar  language  and  bearing  of  this 
rude  man.  Sometimes  she  made  up  her  mind  to 
leave  the  place,  he  was  so  offensive. 

Such  troubles  as  these  had  their  antidotes  in 
bits  of  good  fortune  and  kindly  encouragement 
such  as  what,  to  Deborah's  surprise,  happened 
one  morning  as  she  took  her  place  to  work, 
when  she  found  Jean  standing  beside  her. 

"Jean,  how  came  you  here!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Do  you  mind  ?"  said  Jean  with  humility.  "  I 
can  turn  my  hand  to  anything,  and  I  can  always 


"  THOU   RECEIVEDST  GOOD  THINGS.         12$ 

get  a  place.  I  came  because  you  are  here,  and  I 
thought  if  I  kept  near  you  I  might  hold  out 
better.  I  was  at  church  Sunday,  and  the  preach- 
er read  how  the  shadow  of  Peter  passing  by 
cured  folks.  It  makes  me  better  just  to  stand  in 
your  shadow." 

Tears  filled  Deborah's  eyes  ;  she  had  reached 
a  new  experience,  even  the  joy  of  being  a  joy  to 
others ! 

"  That  a  friend  of  yours,  Proudy  ?"  questioned 
one  of  the  girls.  "  You  make  a  queer  couple." 

"  Do  n't  speak  to  her  like  that !"  shouted  Jean  ; 
"she's  a  real  lady." 

"  Ladies  are  no  better  than  other  folks,"  said 
Martha  crossly. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  one  of  the  girls  to  Dora, 
"you  can  tell  us  a  story  of  somebody  coming 
down  in  the  world,  and  serve  'em  right !  Did 
you  have  such  a  story  to  read  while  you  were 
sick  ?" 

"  What  did  your  Bible- woman  think  of  your 
getting  stories  to  read  ?"  said  one  girl,  with  a 
sneer,  to  the  pale  worker.  "  I  '11  be  bound  she 
gave  you  only  tracts." 

"  She  thought  the  stories  were  all  right,  and 
some  of  her  tracts  were  stories,  and  some  were 
lovely  poetry.  There  were  two  tracts  that  I 
liked,  all  I  understood  of  them.  They  were, 
'  Jane,  the  Young  Cottager,'  and  '  The  Dairy- 


126          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

man's  Daughter.'  Somehow  they  stayed  in  my 
mind,  and  I  understood  them  and  felt  them 
more  after  I  was  done  reading  them,  and  I  think 
they  've  kept  with  me  and  made  me  better  ever 
since.  Here 's  one  in  my  pocket  now." 

"  I  have  noticed,"  said  Deborah,  looking  over 
at  Dora  with  a  pleasant  laugh,  "  that  you  and  I 
are  the  two  best  behaved  girls  in  this  room." 

"  If  you  are  it  is  n't  your  blame,  it 's  your 
luck,"  spoke  up  Martha.  "  You  two  have  been 
better  brought  up,  and  given  more  of  a  chance 
than  we  have.  You  show  it.  Perhaps  you  had 
some  one  when  you  were  little  to  tell  you 
to  clean  your  teeth  and  tidy  up  your  nails 
and  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head.  We 
hadn't." 

Deborah  was  suddenly  overwhelmed  with  the 
memory  of  how  many  good  things,  how  many 
mercies,  how  much  care  and  helping,  had  fallen 
to  her  lot  in  life.  She  contrasted  it  with  the 
early  case  of  those  other  girls,  and  tears  came 
into  her  eyes.  While  Deborah  was  reflecting  on 
her  mercies  the  stately,  self-assertive  Jean  was 
attracting  most  of  the  attention  of  the  other  girls 
in  the  room.  Jean  had  come  there  "on  the 
young  lady's  account."  Who  were  they  both, 
and  what  was  the  bond  between  them  ?  Curi- 
osity has  few  restraints  among  these  factory 
girls,  and  Jean  was  interviewed  speedily. 


"THOU   RECEIVEDST  GOOD  THINGS."       Il/ 

"  What 's  your  name  ?"  some  one  asked  of  the 
new-comer. 

"  Jean." 

"  And  are  you  her  kind  ?"  pointing  at  Deb- 
orah. "  You  do  n't  look  it." 

"  No  more  I  'm  not.  But  she  says  she 's  my 
friend." 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Deborah  firmly. 

"  Well,  Proudy  is  pretty  good  to  us  common 
folks,"  said  Kate.  "  She  was  real  nice  to  Dora 
the  day  she  fainted.  Took  her  home  to  tea." 

"  She  has  hid  me  there  twice  since,"  cried 
Dora  gratefully*?'0"  If  I  am  getting  stronger  it  is 
because  of  the  help  she  gives  me." 

"  That  beats  all ;  I  never  heard  the  like,"  said 
Kate. 

"  I  have,"  said  Jean  ;  "  the  Lord  Christ  was  a 
friend  of  publicans  and  sinners." 

"Eh?  Keep  your  tongue,  and  don't  liken 
us  to  publicans  and  sinners,"  said  Kate,  flying 
into  a  rage  and  shaking  her  fist. 

"  We  are  as  bad  off  as  your  Silvio  Pellico  in 
his  'piombi,'  that  you  tell  of,"  said  Martha, 
turning  to  Deborah,  "  it  is  so  hot." 

"  What  could  be  done  to  make  things  better 
for  us  working-girls  who  cannot  get  away  from 
the  city?"  said  Deborah. 

"  In  every  one  of  these  crowded  districts,  in 
every  ward,  the  city  should  break  a  hole,  to  let 


128          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

out  the  bad  air  and  let  the  good  air  in,"  said 
Martha  with  energy. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  do  n't  understand 
you.1' 

"  I  mean  that  in  every  ward — and  the  more 
crowded  the  more  it  is  needed — the  city  should 
buy  and  tear  down  a  block  or  a  part  of  a  block 
of  houses,  lay  the  ground  out  with  clean  walks 
and  some  grass-plots,  and  a  great  many  urns  and 
rockeries  and  high  beds  of  flowers.  There 
should  be  a  fountain  in  the  centre  and  plenty  of 
stone  and  wooden  benches,  and  trees — plenty  of 
trees — and  boxes  of  quick-growing  vines  that 
should  be  run  up  above  the  seats,  like  arbors, 
for  shade.  Then  the  poor  could  walk  in  these 
paths  and  sit  on  these  seats,  and  see  pleasant 
sights  and  breathe  a  little  decent  air." 

"Oh  it 's  water  I  want,  water!"  cried  Kate, 
throwing  up  her  arms  and  panting  for  breath. 
"I  want  cold  water  to  drink,  a  river  of  it! 
Water  to  bathe  in,  water  to  swim  in !  Oh  if  I 
only  had  water !  water !" 

A  deep  ah-h-h  went  around  the  hot  stifling 
room  where  there  was  no  cool  drinking  water, 
and  where  the  girls  were  crowded  hot  and 
weary,  girls  who  were  denied  the  luxury  of  a 
cool,  refreshing  bath  !  Martha  spoke  up  sharply. 
"  Then  there  should  be  in  every  ward  a  big  bath- 
ing-house for  women,  and  another  for  men  and 


"THOU   RECEIVEDST  GOOD   THINGS."         I2Q 

boys.  They  should  be  free  too ;  for  take  a  girl 
who  has  to  pay  all  she  earns  for  food  aud  lodging, 
and  never  has  enough  left  for  clothes,  she  cannot 
even  pay  ten  cents." 

Again  Kate  threw  up  her  arms  and  cried 
out  sharply,  "  Water  !  water !  Oh  I  am  choking ! 
I  am  choking." 

"  She 's  going  into  hysterics,"  said  Jean,  look- 
ing at  her  with  the  eye  of  experience,  and  she 
led  Kate  to  the  window  and  began  to  fan  her. 
Deborah  ran  down  the  long  stairs  swiftly.  At 
the  corner  was  a  queer  little  shop  where  ice> 
cream  was  sold — poor  stuff  for  ice-cream,  but 
delicious  to  one  fainting  in  the  heat,  hysterical 
from  privation  like  this  poor  Kate.  Deborah 
had  a  dollar  in  her  pocket. 

"  Give  me  a  dollar's  worth  of  ice-cream,"  she 
cried  to  the  keeper  of  the  shop,  holding  out  the 
coin. 

"  It  is  all  I  have,"  said  the  man. 

"  Give  it  to  me  in  the  can  then  as  it  is,  and  a 
spoon  or  two." 

"  Ay,  miss — but — 'spose  you  do  n't  bring  'em 
back?" 

Deborah  flushed,  then  laughed.  In  her 
pocket  was  her  thimble — a  gold  one.  "  Take  that 
until  I  return  your  can,"  she  said,  and  so  sped  up 
the  stairs  and  fed  first  Kate  and  then  the  others 
spoonfuls  of  ice-cream. 

Mr.  Groevenor'g  Daughter.          Q 


130          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

This  trouble  with  Kate  had  interrupted 
Martha's  disquisition,  but  with  the  return  to 
work  she  resumed  the  theme.  "  Kate  would  n't 
have  gone  off  like  that  if  she  could  have  had  a 
good  fresh  bath  every  day  to  tone  her  up.  But 
baths  are  too  dear  for  girls  as  poor  as  Kate  ;  she 
can't  pay  twenty-five  cents  a  week  for  the  bath- 
house, simply  because  she  has  n't  it,  and  no  one 
will  lend  it  to  her." 

"  Parks  and  bath-houses !  That  would  be  so 
much  help,"  said  Deborah. 

"Poor  people  need  amusement  as  well  as 
rich  people,"  said  Martha,  "and  to  get  that 
amusement  they  are  driven  to  do  very  foolish 
or  wrong  things  often.  In  these  parks  the  city 
should  provide  music  one  or  two  nights  every 
week.  There  are  plenty  of  bands  in  the  city, 
poor  men's  bands,  bands  that  make  their  living 
by  playing  here  and  there.  And  these  would  be 
helped  in  making  a  living,  while  the  people 
were  entertained,  if  the  city  paid  a  few  dollars 
to  the  bands  to  play  in  these  little  parks.  And 
then  I  think  if  people  who  know  something 
went  about  in  these  parks  and  tried  to  teach  the 
people  something,  it  would  be  of  great  use. 
One  could  go  with  a  telescope  and  let  folks  look 
through  it  and  tell  them  things  about  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars.  Another  could  take  a  micro- 
scope ;  another  could  recite  poetry,  the  kind  that 


"THOU  RECEIVEDST  GOOD   THINGS."       131 

stirs  folks  up  to  be  good  and  generous  and  true. 
The  city  missionaries  and  street  preachers 
would  find  in  those  parks  people  feeling  pleas- 
ant, and  with  a  place  to  sit  down,  and  they 
would  listen  far  better  to  the  preaching  and 
singing  and  praying,  and  it  would  be  more 
likely  to  do  them  good  ;  for  the  interest  taken  in 
them  by  good  people  and  the  government  would 
make  it  more  easy  for  them  to  feel  that  God  is 
good  and  cares." 

"  We  '11  never  see  such  good  done  in  our  day," 
said  one. 

"  Well,  until  the  city  or  the  churches,  or  both, 
take  up  the  work  for  elevating  the  poor,  help- 
ing them  in  body  and  soul,  systematically,  ward 
by  ward,  and  give  each  ward  its  proper  share  of 
help,  they  wont  be  helped — that 's  all.  It  is  not 
of  much  use  to  open  a  kindergarten  here,  a  Day 
Nursery  there,  a  Refuge  or  a  Dispensary  in 
another  place,  and  a  cooking-school  somewhere 
else — each  out  of  speaking  distance  from  the 
other.  The  things  should  be  near  enough 
together  to  call  upon  each  other.  The  children 
that  were  kept  tidy  and  decent  in  the  Nursery 
should  have  their  kindergarten  to  go  to,  and 
their  cooking-school  after  that,  and  their  park 
and  bath-house  to  keep  them  healthy,  their  read- 
ing-room or  club-room,  where  they  could  enjoy 
themselves  without  whiskey,  their  church  and 


132         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

mission  right  where  they  could  get  at  them. 
The  different  branches  of  work  should  help 
each  other ;  put  a  mile  or  so  between  them,  and 
half  of  the  effect  is  lost." 

"You  talk  like  an  educated  person,"  said 
Deborah,  in  surprise. 

"She  is  educated,"  said  one  of  the  girls 
promptly. 

"Then  how  comes  she  to  work  here?"  ex- 
claimed Deborah. 

"  How  do  you  come  to  work  here  ?  Among 
girls  in  a  room  like  this  it  is  not  safe  to  ask  too 
many  questions,  Proudy." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  was  wrong,"  said  Deb- 
orah. 

"  If  we  could  have  all  these  things  that  Mar- 
tha tells  about  in  our  wards  and  if  we  could 
have  some  one  to  read  to  us  while  we  work,  and 
we  could  have  rich  people  who  gave  us  a  chance 
a  few  times  in  our  lives  to  get  out  into  the  coun- 
try or  by  the  seaside,  to  get  revived  a  little,  we 
might  do  pretty  well." 

"Things  are  getting  better.  Country  vaca- 
tions for  poor  children,  and  day  excursions  for 
mothers  and  babies,  and  the  seaside  homes  some 
of  the  good  people  provide,  are  all  better  than 
things  used  to  be — as  I  've  heard  tell,"  said  one. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Martha,  "  better,  but  the  need 
is  greater.  The  cities  are  more  crowded ;  the 


"  THOU   RECEIVEDST  GOOD   THINGS."       133 

living  is  dearer ;  there  is  more  competition,  so 
that  work  is  scarcer  ;  the  poor  people  are  poorer, 
the  rich  are  richer ;  and  rich  and  poor  hold  far- 
ther away  from  each  other.  I  think  wicked 
people  are  wickeder,  and  children  are  in  more 
danger,  than  they  used  te  be." 

"  So  you  see,  to  wind  up  with,  you  'd  better 
not  sing  of  summer  to  us  as  you  did  one  day  ; 
our  lives  are  all  winter — a  muddy,  foggy,  frosty, 
hungry  winter." 

"  I  will  do  better,"  said  Deborah,  "  I  will  sing 
of  the  home  to  which  God  calls  us  all.  " 

And  she  began— 

"  Jerusalem,  my  happy  home, 

Name  ever  dear  to  me, 
When  shall  my  sorrows  have  an  end, 
In  joy  and  peace  with  thee  ? 

When  shall  mine  eyes  thy  heaven-built  walls 

And  pearly  gates  behold, 
Thy  bulwarks  with  salvation  strong, 

Thy  streets  of  shining  gold  ?" 

She  had  learned  many  hymns  of  late  for  the 
Mission. 

One  Saturday  evening  when  the  girls  went 
to  get  paid,  over  half  of  them  were  summarily 
dismissed,  without  warning.  The  reason  was 
that  the  factory  was  overstocked  with  boxes  and 
the  trade  was  slack.  Deborah  was  one  of  those 
dismissed.  Those  daughters  of  poverty  who 


134          MR-  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

were  thus  thrown  out  of  work  gathered  on  the 
sidewalk  in  blank  dismay.  Two  of  them  cried 
pitifully. 

"  I  owe  every  cent  of  this  last  wages,  and 
have  no  more  money,"  said  Martha. 

"  I  'm  deep  in  debt  to  my  cousin,"  said  an- 
other. "  It  is  almost  impossible  to  get  work  at 
this  season." 

"  This  is  getting  a  summer  vacation  with 
a  vengeance !"  remarked  Martha . 

The  crying  of  the  two  youngest  girls  quite 
broke  Deborah's  heart.  Perhaps  they  were  no 
•worse  off  than  the  others,  but  their  exhibition  of 
grief  was  heart-rending.  Deborah  had  designed 
going  again  to  the  Day  Nursery,  where  the  assist- 
ant was  to  leave  to  take  some  of  the  feeble  chil- 
dren to  the  country  branch.  She  took  the  hand 
of  one  crying  girl :  "  Come  with  me  ;  perhaps  I 
can  get  you  a  place  in  a  Day  Nursery."  She  felt 
that  she  could  not  take  that  place  and  leave  this 
poor  soul  crying  for  bread.  It  was  easier  to 
suffer  than  to  see  others  suffer.  Then  to  the 
other  one  she  said,  "  To-morrow  come  to  see  me 
in  Romaine  Court ;  perhaps  something  can  be 
done  for  you." 

"  You  're  not  half  bad,  Proudy ;  your  heart 's 
in  the  right  place,"  said  some  of  the  girls.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  yourself  ?" 


"LIKEWISE  LAZARUS  EVIL  THINGS."        13$ 

CHAPTER  IX. 

'LIKEWISE  LAZARUS   EVIL  THINGS." 

"  A  puny,  naked,  shivering  wretch, 
The  whole  of  whose  birthright  would  not  fetch, 
Though  Robins  himself  drew  up  the  sketch, 
The  bid  of  a  mess  of  pottage." 

THE  next  two  weeks  were  spent  in  seeking 
work,  though  this  time  Jean,  who  had  avowed 
her  intention  of  sharing  Deborah's  fortunes,  did 
most  of  the  seeking.  Finally  a  new  place  was 
secured — in  the  packing-room  of  a  candy  fac- 
tory. Three  dollars  a  week  for  Deborah,  four 
for  Jean,  who  was  strong  and  active,  and  could 
lift  and  carry.  When  in  her  days  of  splendor 
Deborah  had  lavishly  bought  boxes  of  candy  or 
had  them  more  lavishly  presented  by  the  young 
men  of  her  set,  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  in 
what  weariness  her  sister-girls  had  made  and 
filled  these  beautiful  bon-boneries.  Then  to  her 
the  bon-bons  had  been  all  sweetness.  Now —  ? 

It  is  an  often  quoted  saying  of  Terence,  "  I 
am  a  man,  and  nothing  that  concerns  humanity 
is  indifferent  to  me."  The  daughter  of  Dives, 
so  lately  become  by  adoption  the  daughter  of 
Lazarus,  was  rapidly  arriving  at  a  point  where 


136          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

she  could  say,  "  I  am  a  working  woman,  and 
nothing  that  concerns  working  women  is  foreign 
to  me.  There  were  depths  of  enthusiasm  in 
Deborah's  nature  that  hitherto  had  slept  undis- 
turbed ;  now  for  the  first  time  they  were  aroused, 
and  Uncle  Josiah  was  looking  with  profound  in- 
terest to  the  outcome. 

One  morning  at  the  candy-packing  room,  a 
girl  of  sixteen  who  worked  beside  Deborah,  has- 
tily placing  a  newly-filled  box  beside  others  on 
the  sill  of  the  open  window,  happened  to  push 
one  under  the  first  iron  rod  that  barred  the  win- 
dow, and  down  it  went  into  the  street.  There 
was  a  shrill  shriek  of  delight,  and  Deborah,  look- 
ing from  the  window,  saw  all  the  gamins  of  the 
quarter  suddenly  swooping  down  on  the  scat- 
tered candy,  like  a  flock  of  crows  upon  a  newly- 
planted  field.  The  youngsters  seemed  so  over- 
joyed in  their  pell-mell  rush  for  sweetmeats  that 
Deborah  laughed.  But  her  laughter  was  cut 
short  by  the  passionate  crying  of  her  young 
neighbor. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Deborah ;  "  it  was  only 
one  box,  and  you  did  not  mean  to  do  it." 

"  They  '11  charge  me  sixty  cents  for  it  to- 
night," said  the  girl.  "  I  had  been  so  careful  for 
a  whole  month,  and  got  on  without  a  fine !  I 
had  promised  my  little  lame  sister  a  treat,  be- 
cause we  close  early  on  Saturdays,  and  we  were 


"LIKEWISE  LAZARUS  EVIL  THINGS."       137 

to  ride  on  a  street-car  all  around  the  city,  and  I 
was  to  get  her  soda-water  and  ginger  cakes ;  and 
now  we  can't  do  it,  and  it  will  break  her  heart, 
poor  little  sick  thing !"  The  sobs  redoubled. 

Deborah  herself  was  not  easily  moved  to  vis- 
ible emotion :  it  is  one  of  the  results  of  culture 
to  repress  outward  excitement  of  any  kind.  In- 
capable herself  of  this  open  mourning  and  weep- 
ing, Deborah  was  perhaps  for  that  very  reason 
the  more  impressed  by  it  in  others.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  only  extreme  anguish  could  produce  such 
an  exhibition.  She  looked  at  the  weeping  girl, 
not  knowing  how  to  console  her,  when  a  hasty 
step  sounded  on  the  stair,  and  some  one  said, 
"  There 's  the  foreman !"  All  the  girls  went  at 
their  work  vigorously. 

"  Who  threw  out  that  candy  ?"  he  demanded, 
entering. 

Deborah,  as  she  heard  his  step,  hastily  trans- 
ferred one  of  her  boxes  to  her  neighbor,  and  to 
his  demand  said  coolly,  "  I  am  a  box  short,  Mr. 
Cullen  ;  you  '11  fine  me  for  it  to-night." 

"  You  may  believe  I  will,  sixty  cents,"  said 
the  foreman.  "  If  you  like  that  kind  of  thing, 
sling  out  some  more,"  and  he  went  off. 

"You  must  have  money  to  spare,"  said  one 
of  the  girls  to  Deborah. 

"  I  have  n't ;  but  then  I  have  no  little  lame 
sister  to  disappoint." 


138  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  It 's  awful  good  of  you,"  said  the  girl,  Bella, 
"  but  I  ought  n't  to  take  it." 

"  Oh  yes.  It 's  done  now.  That  is  all  right," 
said  Deborah. 

"  See  here,  are  you  a  common  working-girl  ?" 
demanded  one  of  the  packers.  "You  don't 
look  or  speak  or  act  like  it.  Are  you  a  lady, 
playing  at  being  poor  ?" 

"  I  am  not  playing  at  being  poor,  for  I  am 
poor,"  said  Deborah.  "  I  am  a  working-girl,  and 
have  only  my  wages  to  live  on.  I  have  not  been 
a  working-girl  very  long.  If  I  had,  I  should 
have  tried  to  learn  something  so  well  that  I 
could  get  a  better  place  than  this.  I  live  with  an 
uncle  and  my  old  nurse.  Our  rent  is  eight 
dollars  a  month,  and  I  ought  to  pay  it,  but  be- 
tween fines,  taxes,  and  low  wages,  and  being 
out  of  work,  I  have  not  earned  it  so  far.  As  for 
being  a  lady,  if  you  mean  by  that,  speaking  and 
behaving  properly,  I  do  n't  see  why  I  should  not 
be  that,  no  matter  how  poor  the  work  and  the 
wages." 

"  It  is  just  a  burning  shame,  fining  us  sixty 
cents  for  a  box  like  that ! "  cried  one  of  the 
girls;  "it  is  the  full  retail  price,  and  it  is  not 
worth  nearly  that  here  in  the  factory.  Rich  as 
they  are,  they  ought  not  to  charge  for  a  lost 
box." 

"  See  here,"  said  an  elderly  work-woman,  "  if 


"LIKEWISE   LAZARUS  EVIL  THINGS."         139 

there  were  no  fines  you  girls  would  be  just  as 
careless  as  you  could  be.  You  'd  shoot  boxes 
out  of  the  window  every  day,  and  you  'd  scatter 
the  candy  round  the  floor  and  trample  it,  and  go 
home  with  your  pockets  stuffed.  You  'd  swamp 
the  firm  in  no  time.  There  's  nothing  honorable 
about  you ;  it  is  only  the  fines  that  make  you 
reasonably  careful." 

"  But  the  fines  are  exorbitant,"  said  Deb- 
orah ;  "  they  should  not  tax  us  more  than  what 
they  pay  us  for  time  ;  nor  for  property  beyond 
what  they  sell  the  property  for  to  other  people. 
That  lost  box  was  virtually  sold  to  me,  and  I 
ought  not  to  be  charged  more  than  the  trade 
for  it." 

"  Good  for  you  ! "  cried  several  girls ;  "  and  as 
for  being  honorable,  are  we  honorably  treated  ? 
We  are  spoken  to  roughly,  given  the  very  lowest 
wages,  taxed,  fined,  and  turned  off  without 
warning  the  very  minute  trade  falls  off  a  little." 

"  That 's  the  trouble ;  you  measure  all  by  the 
way  you  're  treated  and  by  the  dealings  of  men, 
not  by  the  laws  of  God.  Suppose  you  are  hardly 
dealt  with,  can 't  you  do  your  work  as  unto  God 
and  not  unto  men  ?  Can  't  you  be  just  and  good 
in  yourselves  for  the  sake  of  being  it  ?  Oh  I 
hear  plenty  from  you  all  about  the  hard  treat- 
ment the  world  gives  you,  but  precious  little 
about  doing  your  duty,"  said  Mrs.  Beck. 


140  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  You  think  you  have  it  hard  here,"  said  an 
old  woman,  "but  it  isn't  to  begin  with  as  hard 
as  it  is  in  England.  Why,  your  three  dollars  are 
twelve  shillings  a  week,  and  a  London  working, 
girl  would  think  that  riches;  five-and-six,  or 
less  than  a  dollar  and  a  half,  is  a  girl's  wages 
there,  and  find  herself.  I  was  a  mantle-maker 
in  London  till  my  eyes  gave  out.  I  made  five 
shillings,  that 's  only  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  by 
sixty  hours'  hard  work — ten  hours  a  day  for  all 
the  working  days  of  the  week.  Now  and  then, 
by  working  fifteen  or  sixteen  hours  a  day,  I  'd 
send  it  up  to  a  little  more.  How  did  I  live  on 
that  ?  Why,  six  of  us  lived  in  two  little  rooms, 
and  clubbed  for  rent,  lights,  and  fire,  and  we 
lived  on  weak  tea  and  bread  without  butter,  and 
a  bit  of  bacon  and  potatoes  on  Sunday.  What 
do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  were  all  born  fools  to  put  up 
with  it !  "  cried  one. 

As  the  summer  days  dragged  on,  hot  and 
dusty,  Deborah  felt  more  weary  and  took  less 
interest  in  what  went  on  about  her.  For  several 
days  she  vaguely  noticed  that  a  boy  left  the 
candy  factory  when  she  did  and  went  home  by 
the  same  streets  some  distance  behind  her ;  but 
when  she  took  some  quiet  by-street  she  heard 
the  stolid  tramp,  tramp  of  his  big  shoes  along 
the  rough  pavement.  Finally  Jean,  who  always 


"LIKEWISE   LAZARUS   EVIL  THINGS."        141 

accompanied  her,  burst  out  into  a  laugh.  Do 
you  see  that  Oliver  ?  He  follows  us  like  a  big 
dog !  Have  you  noticed  it? " 

Deborah  stopped.  "Oliver?  Why,  it  is 
Oliver!"  She  waited,  and  the  lad  shambled 
near  in  shamefaced  fashion  which  made  him 
unutterably  awkward.  "  Oliver,  I  did  not  know 
you  worked  in  this  factory.  How  long  have 
you  been  there  ?  " 

"  Two  weeks.     In  the  shipping-room." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  leave  your  other 
place  ?  "  she  said  anxiously. 

"  Of  my  own  accord,  miss,"  said  Oliver,  pick- 
ing up  courage.  "  But  it  is  a  rough  noisy  place 
down  here  by  the  docks,  and  after  a  bit  it  will 
be  dark  when  you  go  home — and — I  took  the 
place  when  I  had  the  chance — and — you  '11  not 
mind  my  going  a  little  behind  you?  If  any 
one  sasses  you  he  '11  find  out  how  much  grip 
I  've  got  in  my  hands." 

"  Thank  you,  Oliver,"  said  Deborah,  deeply 
touched,  "  but  I  had  Jean." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  but  she  might  break  out — 
Jean  hersel'  might  need  me  to  drag  her  by 
where  she  should  not  go !" 

"  You  'd  ha'  a  hard  time  dragging  me,  boy," 
said  Jean,  looking  down  upon  him  from  her 
stately  height.  "  And  I  can  take  care  of  miss." 

Deborah  laughed   a  little.     She  had  found 


142  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

out  that  any  woman  is  her  own  strongest  pro- 
tector, and  she  had  divined  aright  the  story  of 
Una  and  her  Lion.  Yet  none  the  less  she  felt 
grateful  to  these  two,  and  paid  them — with  a 
smile. 

Such  a  subject  came  up  for  discussion  in 
the  work-room  one  day.  A  girl  remarked  that 
she  had  been  offered  six  dollars  a  week  and 
board  to  tend  a  bar,  and  she  had  a  mind  to  take 
it,  and  not  starve  on  three  dollars. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Deborah,  "  that  such 
an  arrangement  is  against  the  law  ?  The  man 
who  employed  you  would  be  subject  to  arrest. 
Girls  are  not  allowed  to  tend  bar." 

"I  did  n't  know  that,"  said  the  girl  simply. 
"  It  is  a  mean,  low  business  tempting  folks  to 
drink.  But  I  would  n't  tempt,  I  'd  only  sell  what 
was  asked  for." 

Jean  looked  at  the  pretty  fatuous  face  with 
open  scorn  and  wrath. 

"  Stupid !  do  you  know  what  you  would  be 
doing  ?  Better  die  of  want  at  once  than  die  in 
the  gutter  a  drunken  reprobate  in  six  months' 
time.  That 's  what  would  have  happened  to  me, 
only  I  was  made  so  strong — and  only  for  her ;" 
she  pointed  to  Deborah. 

The  forewoman  spoke  up.  "The  working- 
girls  are  their  own  worst  enemies,  and  harder" 
on  themselves  than  any  one  else  is  hard  on 


"LIKEWISE  LAZARUS  EVIL  THINGS."        143 

them.  Do  they  try  to  make  themselves  re- 
spected ?  Do  they  give  the  very  best  work  that 
they  can  ?  Do  they  go  to  church  and  put  them- 
selves where  quiet  and  respectable  people  are  ? 
No :  they  go  to  theatres  of  the  lowest,  cheapest 
class ;  they  go  to  dime  museums,  and  spend  in 
such  places  the  money  they  should  spend  for 
soap  and  shoes.  Do  they  content  themselves 
with  strong,  warm,  plain  clothes  ?  Do  they  re- 
member that  quiet,  modest  manners  are  any 
woman's  best  ornament?  They  want  flashy 
clothes,  a  cheap  bonnet  covered  with  cotton  rib- 
bon and  cotton  flowers,  some  gay,  flimsy,  showy 
gown,  and  a  pair  of  low-cut  shoes.  I  've  known 
'em  to  go  without  a  good  strong  big  cotton  um- 
brella all  winter  for  the  sake  of  carrying  a 
flimsy  blue  silk  sun-shade  on  Sundays.  And 
how  do  they  spend  Sundays  ?  Flaunting  around 
the  streets,  going  to  the  parks  or  beer-gardens 
with  low  fellows  that  swear  and  drink  and 
smoke ;  bad  fellows  that  they  know  to  be  bad, 
and  that  self-respecting  girls  should  not  go  with 
at  all !  Then,  after  such  a  Sunday,  they  come 
to  work  Monday  tired,  feverish,  vexed,  out  of 
pocket,  and  full  of  complaints  about  the  em- 
ployers. If  they  would  take  Sunday  for  peace  and 
rest,  for  getting  some  food  for  their  minds  and 
comfort  and  hope  for  their  souls,  if  they  would 
go  to  God's  house,  and  sit  there  in  peace,  they  'd 


144  MR-  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

find  there  the  light  of  God's  glory,  and  they 
would  be  helped  to  be  better." 

"  Oh  you  speak  as  if  we  had  half  a  chance !" 
said  Bella.  "Why  in  the  attic  of  the  house 
where  I  live  there  are  seven  girls  who  live  to- 
gether, and  have  a  sign  up,  '  Sewing  done  by 
the  piece.'  They  none  of  them  have  better 
than  a  cotton  gown,  and  their  shoes  are  all 
broken,  and  the  girls  are  all  pale  and  thin  ;  they 
are  just  half  starved !  Much  they  spend  on  cot- 
ton lace  or  cheap  jewelry  or  on  dime  shows !" 

"  But  you  know  there  are  plenty  who  do  just 
as  I  say." 

"  We  have  been  in  too  crowded  quarters  even 
to  be  real  tidy  or  modest  or  decent  in  our  feel- 
ings," said  one  girl.  "We  have  always  heard 
swearing  and  coarse  bad  talk,  and  naturally  it 
has  ceased  to  hurt  our  feelings ;  we  have  always 
seen  dirt,  disorder,  drunken  people,  and  quar- 
relling and  fighting.  We  have  heard  religion 
and  God  mocked  at,  and  rich  people  abused, 
ever  since  we  have  heard  anything.  All  our 
surroundings  have  been  discouraging ;  we  have 
not  been  helped  to  rise,  or  taught  that  we  could 
ever  make  anything  real  good  of  ourselves,  or 
get  good  fortune  in  any  honest,  respectable  way. 
It  is  easy  for  us  to  hate  people  that  are  better 
off,  and  to  be  as  bad  as  we  can." 

"  That 's  it."  cried  Bella  bitterly  ;  "  the  little 


"LIKEWISE  LAZARUS   EVIL  THINGS."        145 

children  are  bad  off  and  made  bad,  and  the  girls 
have  hard  times  as  they  grow  up,  and  a  little 
later  marry  one  of  the  bad  fellows  you  spoke 
of,  and  have  a  husband  that  drinks,  swears, 
knocks  one  about,  uses  his  wages  on  himself, 
and  runs  off  and  leaves  one  with  three  or  four 
crying  children  to  take  care  of." 

"  But  there  at  least  one  can  help  one's  self," 
cried  Deborah.  "  No  girl  is  compelled  to  marry 
a  bad  man,  to  make  her  own  lot  worse,  and  to 
put  more  little  children  in  misery  and  danger ! 
If  a  girl  cannot  marry  a  decent  man,  who  really 
cares  for  her,  and  will  be  good  to  her  and  try 
to  help  his  family  on,  why  does  she  marry  at 
all?  She  is  better  off  as  she  is." 

"  Oh  well,  they  all  marry ;  it  is  the  custom ; 
and  they  are  so  tired  and  disgusted  with  one 
way  of  living,  they  think  they  '11  try  something 
else.  And  sometimes  the  men  promise  a  good 
deal,  but  don't  keep  their  promises,  and  so  it 
goes.  But  the  dead  girls  are  the  best-off  girls, 
only  the  girls  that  have  never  been  born — they 
are  the  best  off  of  all." 

"  And  they  'd  better  be  precious  careful  not 
to  be  born." 

"  But  tell  me  what  would  make  things  bet- 
ter," said  Deborah.  "  I  know  a  young  lady,  a 
very  rich  young  lady,  who  has  gone  to  France, 
and  she  promised  me  that  when  she  came  back 

Mr.  Groavenor's  Daughter.  IQ 


146  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

she  would  do  something  for  working-girls,  if  I 
would  tell  her  what  to  do." 

"  She  '11  never  remember  it.  That  was  all 
gush.  She  '11  spend  all  her  money  in  Paris  on 
nice  clothes.  You  '11  hear  no  more  of  her." 

"  If  she  's  like  you,  Miss  Deborah,"  said  Jean, 
"  she  may  remember  us  and  help  us.  You  do." 

"  She  does  now  because  she 's  put  right  here 
with  us,"  said  Maria.  "  But  I  say,  Deborah, 
could  you  have  given  up  what  you  had  just 
to  learn  what  was  wanted,  and  then  give  it? 
Say?" 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  was  too  selfish  and  too  igno- 
rant to  stand  such  a  test.  To  make  me  learn 
anything  God  had  to  take  my  fortune  out  of  my 
hands." 

"  And  if  you  had  a  chance  of  course  you 
would  go  back." 

Maria  spoke  up.  "  Homes  are  what  we 
want,  homes  where  we  can  be  quiet  and  healthy, 
and  respect  ourselves,  and  daren't  bring  a  bad 
book." 

"  Homes !"  cried  Jean ;  "  I  hate  the  name 
of  them !  I  would  n't  be  in  one  for  any 
money !  A  home  that  is  a  real  home  is  all  very 
well,  but  homes  for  working-girls  are  jails, 
that 's  what  they  are.  You  can 't  do  this  ;  you 
daren't  do  that;  can't  be  out  after  such  an 
hour ;  can't  have  company  call ;  must  tell 


"LIKEWISE  LAZARUS  EVIL  THINGS."       147 

where  you  Ve  been,  and  so  on.  They  tie  you 
up  and  bind  you  down  and  make  prisoners  of 
you  and  take  away  all  free,  comfortable  feeling, 
and  say  they  Ve  given  you  a  home" 

"I  didn't  mean  that  kind,"  said  the  other 
girl.  "  I  mean  decent  homes  where  we  can  get 
reasonable  rooms  and  proper  privileges." 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  crave  to  have  the  ladies  come 
round  me  and  set  up  for  patterns.  They  look 
at  you  as  if  you  were  n't  fit  to  be  touched,  they 
curl  up  their  noses  and  walk  on  their  tip-toes, 
and  feel  all  the  time  as  if  they  are  so  good  just 
to  speak  to  you.  I  hate  'em !" 

Thus  spoke  a  tall  girl  with  much  unneeded 
vim. 

"  Pshaw,"  said  another.  "  It  is  not  always 
that  way.  Last  winter  the  mission  on  Callowell 
Street  opened  one  of  the  church  parlors  for  a 
working-girls'  club,  three  times  a  week,  and  some 
of  the  nicest  young  ladies  that  you  ever  saw 
came  to  it.  They  taught  drawing,  fancy-work, 
dressmaking.  They  made  themselves  real 
pleasant,  and  told  us  what  books  were  nice  to 
read,  and  what  it  was  nice  to  do,  and  they  looked 
out  for  the  sick  and  weakly  ones  and  were  real 
lovely  to  us." 

"  Wish  that  kind  was  n't  so  scarce,"  said  the 
tall  girl. 
"  And  after  all,  when  a  real  nice  thing  is  to  be 


148          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

done  it  is  the  good  ones  that  do  it.  I  know  a 
girl  that  had  gone  to  make  an  application  for 
a  nice  place,  and  could  n't  get  it,  and  she  was 
clear  discouraged.  When  she  went  out  on  the 
sidewalk  she  saw  a  poor  miserable  horse  stand- 
ing there  stretching  out  its  neck  towards  a  tur- 
nip that  had  been  dropped  just  out  of  its  reach. 
The  girl  was  crying,  but  she  pitied  the  wretched 
horse,  so  she  gave  it  the  turnip,  and  patted  the 
poor  horse  on  the  head,  and  said,  '  You  and 
I  have  it  pretty  hard  in  this  world,  do  n't  we  ?' 
Well,  just  then  along  came  one  of  the  greatest 
preachers  in  the  city,  and  he  heard  her,  and  he 
guessed  just  how  things  stood.  So  he  found 
out  her  name  and  where  she  lived,  and  he 
made  friends  for  her,  and  got  her  a  first-class 
place  and  has  helped  her  along,  and  she  goes 
to  his  church  and  is  in  a  Bible-class,  and  I  tell 
you  she  is  getting  on  fine." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Beck,  "the  one  greatest 
and  truest  friend  of  all  is  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  the  people  who  have  the  most  of  his  spirit 
in  them  are  the  most  friendly  and  helpful  and 
tender.  If  all  people  had  the  love  of  Christ  in 
their  hearts  the  miseries  of  this  world  would 
soon  pass  away.  I  mean  the  bitter  part  of  them. 
For  while  the  poor,  the  sick,  and  the  suffering 
were  left  there  would  be  help  and  friends  and 
comfort  for  them,  given  in  such  a  tender  way 


"LIKEWISE  LAZARUS  EVIL  THINGS."       149 

that  it  would  not  go  against  the  grain  to  take 
it." 

Such  were  some  of  the  talks  in  the  work- 
room. Not  carried  on  all  at  one  time,  but  in 
snatches  here  and  there,  when  the  rough  fore- 
man was  out  of  the  room,  and  happily  he  left 
the  control  of  the  room  largely  to  Mrs.  Beck 
and  spent  his  time  in  other  parts  of  the  build- 
ing. Deborah  detailed  to  Uncle  Josiah  all  that 
was  said,  as  they  discussed  what  could  be  done 
for  working-girls,  and  who  could  do  it. 


ISO  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HARVESTS    AND    HARVESTS. 

"  A  still  small  voice  spoke  unto  me : 
'  Thou  art  so  full  of  misery 
Were  it  not  better  not  to  be  ?'  " 

WHILE  once  Deborah  Grosvenor  had  not 
given  a  thought  to  anything  beyond  the  weari- 
ness or  amusements,  the  self-service,  of  the  hour, 
had  busied  herself  with  no  deep  thoughts,  with 
no  wide  themes,  now  she  began  to  vex  herself 
with  unanswerable  questions  about  the  life 
around  her.  Why,  why,  WHY  ? 

Why  were  some  born  to  extreme  misery  ? 
Why  was  evil  tolerated  in  a  universe  ruled  by 
the  Supremely  Good  ?  Whence  had  sprung  that 
awful  harvest  of  sin  and  sorrow  ?  She  thought 
the  story  of  the  primal  fall  an  answer  quite  in- 
sufficient. Why  should  one  sin,  one  disobedi- 
ence, bring  in  its  train  so  many  crimes  and 
woes? 

"  Deborah,"  said  her  uncle,  "  we  cannot  meas- 
ure the  reproductive  power  of  sin,  any  more 
than  we  can  the  reproductive  power  of  seed — let 
us  say  of  wheat.  I  think  if  every  atom  of  wheat 
in  all  the  world  were  destroyed,  except  one  sin- 
gle healthy  seed,  and  that  were  dropped  in 


HARVESTS  AND  HARVESTS.  I$I 

fitting  soil  and  given  careful  culture,  and  harvest 
after  harvest  its  product  kept  for  seed,  within 
ten  years  the  earth  would  again  abound  in  wheat- 
fields,  and  all  men  would  eat  bread  to  the  full. 
When  statistics  show  us  how  soon  the  world 
would  be  repopulated,  if  all  its  inhabitants  ex- 
cept two  couples  were  destroyed,  we  cannot 
wonder  that,  given  even  a  few  parents  who  had 
not  God  in  all  their  thoughts,  the  up-growth  of 
vice  should  be  so  rampant.  The  whim  or  care- 
less habit  of  the  parent  becomes  the  master- 
passion  of  the  child  ;  the  greedy  man's  son  may 
be  a  thief,  and  the  self-indulgent  idler  may  ripen 
in  the  next  generation  into  the  debauchee  Get- 
ting down  seems  easy  to  the  human  race,  men- 
tally, morally,  physically,  spiritually,  financially. 
It  is  rising  upwards  that  is  hard.  When  the 
race  started  on  the  down-grade,  can  we  wonder 
that  we  find  them  where  we  do  after  six  thou- 
sand years  or  so  of  evil  progress  ?  Rather  we 
must  wonder  at  the  infinite  power  of  divine 
grace,  that  has  stayed  so  many,  and  has  so  built 
an  altar  to  God  in  many  human  hearts,  and  sent 
up  to  heaven  '  a  great  multitude  whom  no  man 
can  number.' " 

"  But,  uncle,  look  at  it  another  way.  God  is 
a  prayer-hearer:  he  has  made  promises  to  the 
seed  of  his  children.  Do  you  think  that  all  these 
miserable  wicked  thousands  have  never  in  all 


I$2  MR.   GROSVENORS  DAUGHTER. 

the  long  line  of  their  ancestors  had  one  who 
loved  God  ?  have  never  had  friend  or  ancestor  or 
casual  acquaintance  even  who  offered  a  prayer 
in  their  behalf  ?  What  has  then  become  of  the 
answer  of  prayers  ?" 

"  My  child,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  I  stood  one 
day  in  a  field  where  were  hundreds  of  round 
silver  heads  of  dandelions  gone  to  seed.  The 
south  wind  came  suddenly  sweeping  over  the 
field,  and  carried  on  its  wings  millions  of  seeds 
away,  and  sowed  them  over  all  the  land.  What 
profit  would  it  have  been  to  me  to  go  and  search 
for  those  truant  seeds,  or  to  ask  the  wind  where 
it  had  carried  them?  If  to  find  one  crop  of 
feathered  seeds,  borne  by  one  blast  of  wind,  is  so 
difficult,  are  we  likely  to  be  able  to  trace  the 
myriad  prayers  which  have  gone  up  to  God 
through  the  ages,  and  which  he  has  sown  over 
the  world  in  blessings  ?  I  cannot  answer  your 
question,  but  every  now  and  again  I  come  upon 
the  answer  of  some  long-hoarded  prayer,  and 
from  such  examples  I  infer  what  has  become  of 
all.  A  year  ago  you  were  an  evil  steward,  daily 
accused  by  the  angel  before  God  for  wasting  his 
entrusted  goods.  Your  soul  was  in  deadly  jeop- 
ardy ;  God  was  not  in  all  your  thoughts.  I  won- 
dered how  long  it  would  be,  and  how  it  would 
be,  before  God  remembered  the  prayers  of  your 
grandmother  for  you.  Deborah,  how  do  you 


HARVESTS  AND   HARVESTS.  1 53 

like  the  answer  to  your  grandmother's  prayers  ? 
You  are  being  led  towards  heaven  by  the  via  cru- 
cis." 

"  Do  you  lay  to  grandmother's  prayers  all 
these  varied  fortunes  ?  Do  you  suppose  grand- 
mother would  have  had  courage  to  pray  if  she 
had  seen  the  method  of  the  answer  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps  that  is  one  reason 
why  God  veils  the  future,  that  we  may  not  be 
frightened  out  of  our  prayers  by  the  way  of  the 
answer." 

"  I  suppose  if  some  Christians  could  see  how 
very  long  it  would  be  before  their  prayers  would 
be  answered,  and  how  hard  the  road  towards 
answer  would  be,  they  would  be  almost  discour- 
aged." 

"  No  doubt.  But  long  to  us  is  short  to  God ; 
God's  time  is  good  time ;  and  when  we  have  en- 
tered heaven,  time  will  be  no  longer,  and  we 
shall  not  know  of  delay." 

Uncle  Josiah  and  Deborah  were,  like  the 
Hebrews  of  old,  sitting  on  the  house-top.  August 
had  come  with  fierce  heat,  and  Deborah  was 
learning  what  side  of  life  the  summer  turns  to 
the  city  poor.  Uncle  Josiah,  finding  the  street 
an  impossible  place  for  himself  and  his  niece, 
and  the  open  windows  of  their  room  a  little 
better  evening  resort,  though  Nurse  Jamieson 
did  not  seem  to  mind  it,  had  discovered  an 


154          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

evening  haven  for  himself  and  Deborah  by  ta- 
king rugs  up  to  the  roof,  and  sitting  there  above 
the  ill  odors  and  the  din  and  as  near  the  stars  as 
possible.  Now  that  the  fires  in  the  house  were  all 
out  at  evening  the  roof  was  a  fine  place  for  uncle 
and  niece,  though  not  to  their  neighbors  who  de- 
manded society  and  gossip.  The  house  opposite 
them  in  the  court  was  a  half-story  higher  than 
theirs,  and  every  evening  Deborah  had  seen  a 
strange  and  haggard  human  face  in  the  opposite 
attic  window.  It  was  a  face  written  with  the  sins 
and  sufferings  of  eighty  evil  years.  Almost  the 
lines  of  humanity  had  been  obliterated,  and  the 
face  was  more  like  some  evil  bird  watching  for 
carrion  than  like  a  woman's  countenance.  Deb- 
orah gazed  in  the  sunken  fierce  eyes,  the  tremu- 
lous chin,  the  rough  gray  head,  the  defaced 
features,  the  withered  yellow  skin,  with  a  kind 
of  fascination  of  horror.  What  course  of  time 
and  of  habits  could  have  made  her  like  that? 
What  was  the  history  of  years  that  had  written 
such  records  on  a  face?  She  tried  to  imagine 
that  face  back  to  matron  maturity,  back  to  youth, 
back  to  girlhood,  back  to  childhood's  sunshine, 
back  to  infant  purity.  "  Long  and  hard  the  road 
thy  feet  have  travelled — far  from  God !"  Seated 
on  a  mat  and  leaning  back  against  a  chimney, 
Deborah  studied  her  opposite  neighbor ;  and 
with  some  glimmer  of  curiosity  this  strange, 


HARVESTS  AND  HARVESTS.  155 

fierce-looking  old  creature,  who  was  never  seen  to 
descend  to  the  street,  studied  the  girl,  who  after 
her  day  of  toil  came  home,  laid  aside  her  black 
gingham  working-dress,  and  putting  on  a  muslin 
robe  in  white  or  gray,  went  up  to  the  roof  with 
the  grave  old  man  and  sat  there  conversing  with 
him  till  the  shadows  fell. 

"  Uncle,"  said  Deborah,  "  what  has  been  such 
an  old  woman's  terrible  story  ?  Do  you  suppose 
there  were  ever  any  prayers  for  her?" 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  Eternity  alone  has  the  an- 
swer for  many  questions." 

The  idea  of  the  old  woman  grew  upon  Deb- 
orah with  strange  insistence. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  your  mind  is 
thus  turned  towards  this  woman  because  God 
has  an  errand  for  you  to  do  to  her  from  him. 
Remember,  Deborah,  what  we  can  do  for  God  is 
here  and  now.  Why  were  you  sent  to  this 
court?" 

Thus  it  happened  that  one  Sabbath  evening 
the  old  woman  did  not  see  the  young  girl  and 
her  uncle  upon  the  roof,  but  instead  there  was  a 
tap  on  her  grimy  door,  and  it  swung  open  to  re- 
veal a  vision.  The  vision  was  of  a  tall  girl 
stately  in  figure,  low  of  voice,  dressed  in  white, 
and  holding  a  bunch  of  flowers  which  breathed 
strange  fragrance  in  that  dismal  attic. 

Two  or  three  times  each  week  Uncle  Josiah 


156          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

brought  home  to  Deborah  a  large  bouquet  of 
flowers.  He  got  them  without  cost  from  a  man 
who  had  a  hot-house  and  gardens.  He  always 
kept  two  or  three  bunches  of  flowers  in  the 
room  at  his  mission,  saying  that  they  were  as 
good  preachers  as  he  knew  of.  Deborah's  room 
also  was  made  fragrant  and  radiant  with  flowers. 

At  first,  in  her  passion  for  beauty  and  her 
cleaving  to  these  memorials  of  her  former  for- 
tunes, Deborah  had  kept  her  flowers  until  they 
faded.  But  finally  she  had  taken  shame  for 
that,  and  first  for  the  hand  of  a  dead  babe,  then 
for  sickness  or  old  age  or  lonely  childhood,  she 
had  shared  her  flowers,  and  always  as  she  di- 
vided and  distributed,  others  came. 

"See,  Deborah,"  said  her  uncle,  "there  is 
that  giveth  and  yet  increaseth.  There  is  that 
withholdeth  more  than  is  meet,  and  it  tendeth  to 
poverty." 

"  I  wish  I  had  known  that  when  I  was  rich," 
said  Deborah. 

"  There  was  no  excuse  for  your  ignorance ;  it 
was  written  in  the  Book." 

"  There  are  none  so  blind  as  those  who  will 
not  see,  uncle.  Besides,  I  read  the  Book  very 
little  in  those  days." 

Well,  on  this  Sabbath  evening  Deborah  had 
divided  a  large  bunch  of  roses  and  lilies  and 
azaleas,  and  now  bearing  them,  stood  queenly  in 


HARVEST  AND   HARVESTS.  1 57 

the  open  doorway,  while  the  old  woman,  dirty, 
ragged,  defiant,  yet  curious,  looked  at  her  from 
her  place  in  the  window. 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?"  she  demanded. 

"We  are  neighbors,"  said  Deborah ;  "Hive 
across  the  street,  and  as  you  seem  never  to  go  out 
I  have  come  to  see  you." 

"  No ;  I  never  go  out." 

Deborah  walked  towards  her.  "As  you  do 
not  go  out  to  meet  the  summer,  I  have  brought 
summer  to  you ;  here  are  some  flowers ;"  and  she 
held  the  bouquet  against  the  grim,  brown, 
wrinkled  face. 

There  is  great  power  in  odors.  It  is  said 
that  odors  have  more  virtue  in  awakening  mem- 
ories than  have  sights  or  sounds.  Well  did 
Whittier  write, 

"  Shall  greet  me  like  the  odors  blown 
From  unseen  meadows  newly  mown, 
Or  lilies  floating  on  some  pond 
Wood-fringed,  the  wayside  gaze  beyond. 
The  traveller  owns  the  grateful  sense 
Of  sweetness  near,  he  knows  not  whence, 
And  pausing,  takes  with  forehead  bare 
The  benediction  of  the  air." 

The  rough  face  that  had  been  hidden  in  the 
flowers  softened  a  little  as  she  withdrew  it. 

"  I  must  put  them  in  water  for  you,"  said 
Deborah,  so  she  took  a  pitcher  from  the  table, 
put  water  in  it  from  a  pail  in  the  corner,  and 


158  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

arranging  the  flowers  to  hide  the  broken  nose 
and  broken  handle  of  the  pitcher,  placed  them 
in  the  window-seat  close  to  the  old  dame. 

"  You  never  go  out,"  said  Deborah ;  "  are  you 
lame  or  sick  ?" 

"  No ;  I  am  well.     I  do  n't  want  to  go  out." 

"  I  have  seen  you  here,  and  you  looked  lonely." 

"You  are  the  first  person  that  has  come  inside 
my  door  for  eight  years,"  said  the  old  woman 
fiercely.  "  I  hate  people." 

"  Not  people  who  have  never  injured  you?" 

"  Yes,  I  do — all  who  are  better  or  happier  or 
younger  or  richer.  I  hate  you.  You  are  all  of 
those  things." 

"Well,  you  will  not  hate  my  flowers,  now 
they  are  yours." 

"  I  feel  just  like  throwing  them  into  the 
street."  Still  she  did  not  throw  them,  and  Deb- 
orah continued, 

"  You  may  like  me  better  when  you  know 
me  better.  How  do  you  live,  if  you  never  go  out 
and  no  one  ever  comes  in  ?" 

"  A  woman  down  stairs  is  paid  to  buy  me 
things  and  to  put  water  and  fuel  near  my  door. 
Sometimes  I  tell  her  if  I  want  anything  espe- 
cial." 

"I  am  glad  that  at  your  age  you  are  not 
neglected  or  destitute — that  you  can  have  all 
that  you  need." 


HARVESTS  AND   HARVESTS.  1 59 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  to  you  ?" 

"  You  are  a  woman,  and  are  old.    I  too  may 

some  time  be  an  old  woman.     I   have  for  you 

what  is  called  human  sympathy.     Do  you  not 

know  what  that  is  ?" 

"  No ;  and  I  do  n't  want  to  know." 

"  Do  you  like  to  talk  to  any  one,  or  to  listen  to 

one  talking?" 
"  No,  I  do  n't." 
"  I  can  sing,"  said  Deborah,  "  and  God  has 

sent  me  to  sing  you  a  song.  When  that  is  sung 

I  will  go. 

" '  The  Lord  my  Shepherd  is, 

He  shall  my  wants  supply ; 
He  leadeth  me  through  pastures  green 
And  quiet  waters  by.1 " 

"  Sing  again,"  commanded  the  woman  when 
she  finished. 

Deborah  began — 

"  O  sacred  Head,  now  wounded, 
With  grief  and  shame  weighed  down." 

When  she  finished  the  hymn  she  rose  to  go. 

"  I  "m  glad  you  came ;  no  one  has  entered 
here  for  eight  years,"  said  the  old  woman. 

"  I  shall  come  again  soon,"  said  Deborah. 

"I  do  n't  believe  it." 

"  But  I  shall,  and  I  shall  bring  my  Bible,  and 
read  to  you  if  it  is  light  enough." 

Curious  to  know  why  this  wretched  woman 


160          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

was  so  abandoned,  Deborah  asked  some  of  the 
neighbors  about  her.  A  chorus  of  exclamations 
answered  her  "  The  most  wicked,  wretched  old 
creature  in  the  city."  "  A  demon !  I  wonder 
she  did  n't  throw  a  knife  at  you."  "  Did  n't  she 
curse  and  swear  all  the  time  ?"  "  You  ought  not 
to  go  near  her,  miss."  "  Wonder  she  did  n't  tear 
your  eyes  out."  "  She  's  been  to  the  penitentiary." 
"  She  ought  not  to  be  allowed  in  this  neighbor- 
hood."  "  Ten  years  she 's  been  there."  "  Some 
decent  folks,  that  some  way  belong  far  off  to 
her,  put  her  there  when  she  got  out  of  the  pen- 
itentiary. She  has  so  much  a  week,  and  she 
might  live  decently.  For  eight  years  she  has  n't 
gone  off  that  floor.  She  stays  like  a  rat  in  a  hole. 
Don't  go  there  again." 

"  The  worse  she  is,  the  more  she  needs  me," 
said  Deborah. 

"  That 's  queer  doctrine." 

"  It  is  Christian  doctrine,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 
" '  The  Son  of  man  came  not  to  call  the  righteous, 
but  sinners  to  repentance.'  'They  that  be 
whole  need  not  a  physician,  but  they  that  be 
sick.' " 

"  Oh  you  Christian  folks  are  too  good  for  this 
world."  " 

Deborah  went  again  in  a  day  or  two.  She 
took  flowers  and  her  Bible,  and  unasked  sat 
down  and  read. 


HARVESTS  AND   HARVESTS.  l6l 

The  third  time  she  went,  lo,  the  window  was 
cleaned,  a  chair  was  scrubbed  and  put  by  the 
window,  a  piece  of  carpet  shaken  and  laid  by 
the  chair.  "  This  bit  of  room  looks  like  another 
country  from  the  rest,"  said  Deborah,  taking  this 
place,  and  again  she  read  and  sang.  The  next 
Sabbath  was  her  fourth  visit.  The  succeeding 
Tuesday  she  found  all  the  room  scoured,  cleaned, 
whitewashed,  renovated. 

"  It  took  two  days,  me  and  another  woman," 
said  the  old  dame,  "  but  if  you  will  come  here 
in  your  good  clothes,  and  bring  flowers,  why  you 
sha'  n't  get  ruined  with  dirt  here." 

And  now  Deborah  saw  in  this  hard,  bad  face 
a  new  expression — hunger  for  the  word  of  life 
she  read.  Again  she  came  ;  the  door  was  open  ; 
the  old  woman  was  waiting  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  "  I  had  a  dream !"  she  cried  eagerly.  "  I 
dreamed  I  got  to  heaven,  and  there  were  crowds 
of  angels  there,  just  like  you,  and  they  sang 
just  as  you  do,  and  there  were  words — the 
words  you  read  ;  and  the  flowers  were  there,  such 
as  you  bring,  and  all  the  air  was  sweet,  and  it 
was  summer." 

Said  Deborah, 

"  '  He  stood  alone,  lost  in  divinest  wonder, 

He  saw  the  pearly  gates,  and  jasper  walls 
Informed  with  light,  and  heard  the  far-off  thunder 
Of  chariot-wheels  and  mighty  waterfalls. 


162  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  '  And  throned  within  the  shining  empyrean, 
A  golden  palm-branch  in  his  gentle  hand, 
He  saw  his  Lord,  the  gracious  Galilean, 
Amid  the  worship  of  the  myriads  stand.'  " 


"  Yes,"  said  the  woman,  "  it  was  like  that^ 
all  music  and  light." 

The  next  time  Deborah  came  the  woman 
herself  had  changed.  She  was  clean  and  clad 
in  clean  garments.  Her  gray  hair,  well  brushed 
and  shining,  lay  under  a  new  cap  ;  she  was  as 
the  once  maniac  of  Gadara,  now  clothed  and  in 
her  right  mind. 

"  I  want,"  said  Deborah,  "  to  have  my  uncle 
come  and  see  you  :  he  knows  more  than  I  do, 
and  he  can  help  you  more.  And  I  want  our 
minister  at  the  mission  chapel  here  to  come 
too." 

"  He  wont  come,"  said  the  woman.  "  He 
tried  it  once,  but  I  knew  he  was  coming,  and  I 
stood  at  the  stair-head  and  flung  a  pail  of  water 
over  him.  The  folks  in  the  house  wanted  to 
have  me  arrested  for  it,  but  he  would  not  let 
them  ;  he  said  I  was  too  old  to  arrest.  I  'd 
have  treated  you  the  same  way,  only  you  came 
up  so  light.  I  didn't  know  you  were  coming 
till  you  crossed  the  room  and  put  the  flowers  to 
my  face.  They  made  me  weak-like." 

"  The  minister  will  come.  I  shall  ask  him," 
said  Deborah. 


HARVESTS  AND  HARVESTS.  163 

Great  was  the  marvel  in  the  neighborhood 
when  the  old  dame  who  had  been  the  Romaine 
Court  terror  appeared  on  the  street,  grave  and 
decently  dressed,  and  walked  to  church  beside 
Nurse  Jamieson.  The  people  said  she  had  been 
bewitched  or  charmed  by  "  Miss." 

Uncle  Josiah  had  been  made  one  of  the  offi- 
cers of  the  church  where  they  attended,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  this  old  woman,  called  into 
a  new  life  so  late,  came  to  ask  admission  to  the 
communion. 

"To  what  do  you  attribute  this  change? 
What  means  did  the  Lord  use?"  asked  the  min- 
ister. 

Uncle  Josiah  expected  to  hear  her  reply  that 
it  was  the  Christian  kindness  of  his  niece  Deb- 
orah. But  no.  The  old  eyes  filled  with  tears  ; 
the  old  lips  quivered.  "  I  am  eighty  years  old," 
said  she,  "  and  seventy-four  years  ago,  when  I 
was  only  six  years  old,  my  mother  died.  She 
was  a  Christian ;  she  had  taught  me  of  God  and 
had  prayed  for  me.  When  she  was  dying  she 
took  me  in  her  arms  and  said,  '  My  little  girl,  I 
am  going  to  God.  I  have  prayed  that  God 
would  surely  bring  you  to  me  in  heaven,  and  I 
know  he  will.'  In  all  my  wild  and  wicked  life  I 
never  forgot  that.  I  did  not  see  when  or  how 
God  could  do  it.  I  seemed  bound  for  hell,  not 
for  heaven,  and  yet  I  felt  that  some  day  God 


164  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

would  lay  a  hand  on  me  and  answer  my  mother's 
prayer  and  bow  my  soul  to  his  will.  The  means 
God  has  used  are  my  mother's  prayers." 

"  Deborah,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "what  do  you 
think  of  prayer  that  has  waited  seventy-four 
years  for  an  answer?  And  yet  the  Lord  is  not 
slack  concerning  his  promises,  as  some  men 
count  slackness,  but  is  long-suffering  and  will- 
ing that  all  should  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
truth !" 

"  But,  uncle,  why  wait  so  long  ?    Why  permit 
so  much  sin  ?" 

" '  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou 
shalt  know  hereafter,' "  replied  her  uncle. 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  SYMPATHY.  165 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  SYMPATHY. 

"  Strong  Son  of  God,  Immortal  Love, 
Whom  we,  who  have  not  seen  thy  face, 
By  faith  and  faith  alone  embrace, 
Believing  what  we  cannot  prove." 

ONE  evening  a  gentleman  knocked  at  Uncle 
Josiah's  door.  "  I  have  come,"  lie  said,  "  to 
thank  you  here  for  what  has  been  done  for  my 
great-aunt,  old  Mrs.  Jensen,  across  the  street. 
Once  each  year  I  have  come  here  to  see  what 
can  be  done  for  her,  and  I  was  never  allowed  to 
enter  the  den  where  she  lived.  I  always  have 
found  her  hateful  and  hating  all  the  world.  But 
to-day  I  found  a  change.  Clean,  quiet,  orderly, 
sitting  there  reading  her  Bible,  filled  with  the 
spirit  of  prayer !  One  of  God's  own  miracles  of 
grace  has  been  wrought  in  her,  and  I  hear  from 
the  people  in  the  house  that  the  young  lady 
here  was  the  instrument." 

"  Indeed  no,"  said  Deborah.  "  She  says,  what 
is  no  doubt  true,  that  all  this  is  the  answer  to 
her  mother's  prayers,  that  have  lain  for  years 
before  God's  throne." 

"  At  least  I  thank  you  for  what  you  have 
done,"  he  said,  "  and  I  want  you  to  help  me 


166         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

make  my  aunt  comfortable.  I  think  she  will 
feel  better  to  go  on  living  where  she  is,  and  I 
believe  that  as  an  example  of  what  God  can  do 
for  a  sinner,  she  will  be  helpful  in  all  this  neigh- 
borhood. Money  is  not  wanting  for  all  her 
needs,  and  I  would  like  to  find  some  nice  Chris- 
tian young  woman  who  would  live  with  her  and 
take  care  of  her  when  it  is  needed.  I  will  hire 
a  second  room,  next  to  the  one  she  has,  and  will 
get  any  furniture  that  is  needed." 

"  Nurse  Jamieson  will  be  the  right  one  to 
help  you  about  that,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 

"And  I  think  I  know  of  a  young  woman 
who  would  be  glad  of  the  place,"  said  Deborah. 
"She  works  in  the  candy  factory  where  I  do, 
and  she  has  lost  her  position,  because  she  had 
to  be  absent,  taking  care  of  a  sister  who  har 
died." 

The  stranger  looked  astonished  when  Deb- 
orah spoke  in  such  a  matter-of-fact  way  of  "  work- 
ing in  a  candy  factory,"  but  he  only  said  that 
any  girl  recommended  by  Deborah  should  be 
engaged.  "  I  am  sure,"  he  added,  "  that  you 
have  been  of  the  greatest  use  to  my  poor  old 
aunt,  whether  you  doubt  it  or  not." 

"  Perhaps,"  thought  Deborah,  "  I  shall  in  the 
course  of  my  life  find  many  reasons  why  God 
sent  me  down  to  the  Lazarus  Quarter  to  Hve, 
and  this  may  be  one  of  them." 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  SYMPATHY.  l6/ 

As  the  visitor  had  said,  the  conversion  of  the 
terrible  Mrs.  Jensen  made  a  great  impression  in 
the  neighborhood.  It  furnished  the  staple  of 
conversation  in  Romaine  Court  for  days. 
"  There 's  something  in  a  religion  that  can  fetch 
her"  said  one  burly  man,  smoking  on  a  door- 
step, to  his  neighbor.  "  I  have  thought  there 
was  n't  very  much  in  religion,  but  I  vow,  this 
change  in  the  old  woman  is  like  changing  a  bear 
to  a  sheep.  It  beats  all  nature !  I  mean  to  go 
to  the  chapel  and  see  what  they  preach  there." 

Others  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  mind,  for 
the  lately  slimly  attended  services  at  the  chapel 
were  crowded  by  a  deeply  attentive  audience. 
Once  it  was  impossible  to  bring  hearers  to  any 
extra  meeting ;  now  whenever  the  doors  were 
open  people  came,  and  all  the  chapel  workers 
were  busy. 

Uncle  Josiah  seemed  to  have  friends  on 
whom  he  could  call  for  aid  in  Christian  work, 
for  he  secured  Bibles  and  hymn-books  for  the 
increased  audience,  and  visiting  from  house  to 
house,  he  had  plenty  of  reading  matter  to  leave, 
and  where  he  saw  cases  of  need  he  found  ways 
of  supplying  Nurse  Agnes  with  fruit,  beef-tea, 
and  other  delicacies,  and  sending  her  to  help 
mind  and  body. 

"  But  I  do  n  t  believe  in  pauperizing  people," 
said  Uncle  Josiah  ;  "  they  do  n't  really  like  it,  if 


1 68  MR.    GROSVENOR'S    DAUGHTER. 

they  are  of  honorable  feelings,  and  it  does  n't  pay 
in  the  long  run.  It  is  better  to  give  them  sym- 
pathy, the  friendly  aid  and  little  gifts  of  neigh- 
bor to  neighbor,  and  help  them  to  help  them- 
selves." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Nurse  Jamieson,  "  but  there  's 
a  warl  o'  work  to  be  dune,  to  get  a  fair  start  for 
them.  I  't  is  to  teach  them  hoo  weel  to  use 
what  they  ha'  wi'oot  pining  for  what  they 
hanna.  It  is  to  show  them  hoo  to  be  decent  in 
their  way  o'  livin'.  I  just  wonner  that  mony  o' 
the  people  do  no  die  o'  dirt ;  a'  they  think  o' 
health-keepin'  is  to  tak'  a  dose  o'  medicine.  I 
preach  to  them,  '  Better  keep  well  than  mak' 
well,'  but  it  is  hard  to  mak'  them  heed.  The 
schules  should  teach  sic  things,  an'  the  city 
should  gie  squares  an'  parks  an'  fountains  an' 
proper  inspection  o'  the  hooses.  I  ken  hoo  it  is. 
A  rich  owner  kens  his  hoose  is  unsatisfactory  in 
a  sanitary  way,  but  a  bit  bill  slipped  intil  some 
one's  han'  will  mak'  the  report  a'  richt." 

"  Next  winter  I  '11  give  some  lectures  on  san- 
itary matters,  and  have  a  stereopticon  and  show 
them  the  results  of  dirt,  and  scare  them  out  with 
bacteria  and  spores  and  germs,"  said  Uncle  Josi- 
ah,  laughing.  "  But  now  I  shall  have  a  different 
meeting.  I  shall  have  a  meeting  at  the  chapel 
for  women  and  girls." 

"  What 's  to  hinder  the  men  from  coming  ?" 


THE  FOUNTAIN   OF   SYMPATHY.  169 

"  Nothing ;  except  that  I  shall  invite  all  the 
girls  and  women,  and  give  them  cards  with  the 
subject  of  the  hour  on  them.  The  cards  shall  be 
square  white  ones,  tied  with  a  little  blue  ribbon ; 
they  will  serve  as  a  souvenir." 

"  They  will  cost  money  too,"  suggested  Deb- 
orah. 

"  Not  very  much ;  and  I  have  a  fund,  from 
a  man  who  is  interested  in  mission  work,  to 
draw  on  for  just  such  things." 

"And  what  is  this  subject  for  women,  and 
not  for  men  ?  And  what  do  you,  as  a  man,  know 
especially  to  tell  these  women  ?" 

"  I  shall  tell  them  just  what  I  shall  tell  men 
some  other  time.  I  invite  them  alone  to  make 
their  meeting  more  sociable,  and  to  arouse  their 
curiosity  in  what  is  entirely  their  own.  As  to 
what  I  know  to  tell  them,  I  know  as  a  human 
heart  what  goes  home  to  human  hearts,  and  my 
subject  will  be  the  '  sympathy  of  Christ.' ' 

"  That  is  a  very  good  subject,"  said  Deborah, 
"  and  I  think  a  little  talk  about  sympathy  will  go 
home  to  some  of  those  lonely,  poor,  neglected 
hearts.  Poor  creatures !  they  toil  unhelped  and 
unthanked  generally.  They  know  so  little  of 
sympathy  and  gratitude  that  they  cannot  even 
cultivate  such  emotions  in  their  children  to  re- 
turn to  their  comfort." 

On  that  Sabbath  afternoon  the  chapel-room 


i/o          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

was  full  of  girls  and  women  for  Uncle  Josiah's 
talk  about  the  "  Sympathizing  Christ."  Deborah 
had  invited  the  girls  from  the  factory,  and  many 
of  them  came.  The  chapel  was  a  new  place, 
and  the  neighborhood  of  Romaine  Court  was  a 
little  better  than  most  of  them  lived  in,  so  they 
came  more  readily. 

Deborah  had  for  several  weeks  been  practis- 
ing hymn-singing  with  some  of  the  usual  atten- 
dants upon  the  chapel  services.  She  had  never 
expected  to  set  up  as  a  music  mistress,  but  what 
she  knew  was  quite  sufficient  for  the  need,  and 
she  began  to  take  real  interest  in  developing 
voices  that  had  any  promise  in  them,  and  in 
having  the  hymns  well  learned,  sweetly  sung, 
and  clearly  pronounced.  Uncle  Josiah  thought 
that  the  singing  should  serve  as  part  of  the 
preaching,  and  part  of  the  praising  and  praying 
also,  plainly  spoken,  so  that  all  might  under- 
stand. After  several  hymns  had  been  sung 
Deborah  sang  alone,  "  Come,  ye  disconsolate, 
where'er  ye  languish." 

To  her  horror,  some  of  the  factory-girls,  re- 
garding the  chapel  as  about  the  same  as  a  con- 
cert-hall, clapped  her  vigorously. 

But  all  these  noisy  demonstrations  died  away 
into  curiosity  and  interest  when  Uncle  Josiah 
read  the  chapter  and  began  to  speak  of  Christ 
the  human  and  divine  in  his  errand  among  men. 


THE  FOUNTAIN   OF  SYMPATHY.  I/I 

Then  he  spoke  of  sympathy  and  its  healing  mis- 
sion to  worn  and  sorrowing  hearts.  Christ,  he 
told  them,  was  the  constant  and  tender  sympa- 
thizing Friend,  lightening  all  human  sorrows 
by  his  compassionate  sharing  of  them. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  show  you  that 
Christ,  by  his  nature  and  experiences,  is  fitted  to 
sympathize  with  us  human  sufferers.  And  then 
I  shall  give  you  some  instances  where  Christ 
exercised  this  blessed  and  helpful  gift  of  sympa- 
thy. Take  your  Bibles,  and  let  us  seek  out 
these  texts  together,  and  then  ask  whatever 
questions  you  like,  or  suggest  other  texts,  or 
read  them.  This  is  a  social  meeting.  Do  n't  let 
us  be  afraid  of  each  other.  Now  if  you  will  look 
at  Hebrews,  the  fourth  chapter  and  fifteenth 
verse,  you  will  find  these  words,  '  For  we  have 
not  a  High  Priest  which  cannot  be  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities ;  but  was  in 
all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without 
sin.'  You  see  there  that  in  his  human  nature, 
subject  to  temptations  and  the  sufferings  of 
human  flesh,  our  Lord  is  fitted  to  sympathize 
with  us.  Now  look  at  Matthew,  eighth  chap- 
ter and  seventeenth  verse,  and  you  will  read, 
'  Himself  took  our  infirmities  and  bare  our  sick- 
nesses.' " 

"Oh  ay,"  said  Nurse  Jamieson,  "and  weel 
does  the  hymn  say,  Maister  Josiah, 


1/2  MR.   GROSVENORS  DAUGHTER. 

'  Our  fellow-sufferer  yet  retains 
A  fellow-feeling  for  our  pains.' 

It  is  a  thocht  that  has  helped  me  to  bear  mony 
an  ane  a  little  better  than  I  would  hae  dune  my 
lane." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Uncle  Josiah  ;  "  I  wish  you 
would  all  say  what  you  think.  Now  look  at 
Luke,  twenty  -  fourth  chapter  and  part  of  the 
twenty-sixth  verse  :  '  Ought  not  Christ  to  have 
suffered  these  things  ?'  That  is,  it  was  needful 
that  he  should  suffer  for  our  sakes." 

"  Yes,"  said  old  Mrs.  Jensen  in  her  rough 
voice,  "  and  he  did  it  willingly  for  us  sinners. 
That 's  what  comes  home  to  me— of  his  own  ac- 
cord, for  such  a  wretch  as  I  have  been,  loving  to 
do  evil !" 

"  Turn  again  to  Hebrews,  the  second  chapter. 
Deborah,  you  read  us  the  tenth  verse." 

"  *  For  it  became  him,  for  whom  are  all 
things  and  by  whom  are  all  things,  in  bringing 
many  sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of 
their  salvation  perfect  through  sufferings,'  "  read 
Deborah. 

"  Now  then,  if  Christ,  as  Captain  of  a  suffer- 
ing people,  became  a  better  Captain  for  them  by 
experiencing  suffering  himself,  I  think  we 
should  beware  of  rebelling  against  trouble,  as  if 
it  were  undeserved  or  a  cruelty  inflicted  upon  us 
by  God." 


THE  FOUNTAIN   OF  SYMPATHY.  1/3 

"  I  know  I  never  got  half  as  much  evil  as  I 
deserved,"  said  Mrs.  Jensen  ;  "  but,  sir,  I  have 
seen  some  very  good  people  who  had  very  much 
trouble — much  more  than  ever  I  had.  And 
mine  was  of  my  own  bringing  about,  and  theirs 
was  not  so." 

"  But  I  mak'  no  doot,"  said  Agnes  Jamieson, 
"  they  guid  folk  made  no  a  great  to-do  and  quar- 
rel aboot  their  trouble.  The  better  they  were 
the  more  quietly  they  took  the  ill." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Beck,  Miss  Grosvenor's  fac- 
tory friend,  "  that  is  like  the  Lord,  '  for  he  was 
led  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter ;  and  as  a  sheep 
before  the  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  opened  not 
his  mouth.' " 

"  Read  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  ver- 
ses, please,  Mrs.  Beck,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 

" '  Wherefore  in  all  things  it  behooved  him  to 
be  made  like  unto  his  brethren,  that  he  might  be 
a  merciful  and  faithful  High  Priest  in  things 
pertaining  unto  God,  to  make  reconciliation  for 
the  sins  of  the  people." 

"  You  see,  these  verses  tell  us  why  Christ  by 
his  nature  was  formed  to  sympathize  with  a  fee- 
ble, sorrowful,  suffering  people. 

"  Now,  Bella,  you  read  Isaiah  63  : 9." 

Bella,  Deborah's  fellow-worker  in  the  candy 
factory,  had  taken  her  place  by  the  organ ;  she 
loved  singing  passionately — a  love  that  fre- 


1/4  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

quently  led  her  to  music-halls  and  cheap  con- 
certs, where  she  fell  into  dangerous  company. 
Deborah  thought  of  that,  as  with  a  flush  on  her 
pretty  childish  face  Bella  read  from  the  place 
which  Deborah  pointed  out  to  her.  Bella  read 
well ;  Uncle  Josiah  was  careful  in  his  choice,  for 
many  of  his  audience  could  neither  read  nor 
write.  Strange  products,  these,  of  nineteenth 
century  civilization ! 

"This  is  a  very  lovely  verse,"  said  Uncle 
Josiah — " '  he  bare  them  and  carried  them  all  the 
days  of  old !'  The  image  is  of  a  kind  shepherd 
carrying  the  young  lambs,  the  tired,  sick  sheep." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Jean,  carried  back  to  her 
Scotch  tongue  by  association,  "  I  hae  seen  that 
long  syne  at  home !  Wait  a  wee !  let  me  find 
that  too,  an'  mark  it  in  my  ain  book.  Read  it 
again,  sir ;  that  goes  to  the  heart !" 

"Ah,  but  you  who  can  read  and  have  a  book 
to  take  home  with  you  are  lucky,"  sighed  a  poor 
store-cleaner. 

"  Well,  I  mean  to  have  a  book  with  that  verse 
in  it,  and  read  it,  whatever  the  priest  says," 
cried  her  neighbor.  "  '  In  all  their  affliction  he 
was  afflicted  ' !  He  Enows  it  all,  ah  !" 

"  Now,  Deborah,  let  us  hear  the  twenty-third 
Psalm  sung,"  said  Uncle  Josiah  ;  "  that  fits  right 
in  here ;  it  is  the  Shepherd  Psalm."  Deborah 
noticed  how  Jean's  heart  was  touched,  and  how 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  SYMPATHY.  1/5 

her  often  defiant  eyes  filled  with  tears.  This 
Psalm  carried  her  back  to  her  mother  and  her 
home. 

Dora  was  there,  seated  next  to  Jean ;  on 
Sundays  Dora  usually  found  some  excuse  for 
getting  a  sight  of  Deborah  ;  she  seemed  to  find 
strength  and  courage  in  Deborah's  strength. 

She  pulled  Jean's  sleeve.  "  This  makes  me 
think  of  my  tract,  the  one  I  told  you  of,  the 
Dairyman's  Daughter.  I  '11  lend  it  to  you.  It 
will  help  you."  She  drew  the  little  soiled,  rag- 
ged tract  from  her  pocket. 

"  No,  it  wont  help  me,"  said  Jean,  eying  the 
treasure  with  disfavor ;  "  nothing  like  that  helps 
me  to  religion ;  it  has  to  be  lived  into  me  by 
some  one  like — her,"  she  nodded  towards  Deb- 
orah. She  had  spoken  louder  than  she  thought. 

"  Jean,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  we  are  studying 
about  the  living  Christ,  who  willingly  came  from 
glory  to  bear  our  burdens  and  carry  our  sorrows. 
My  little  maid,  read  this  verse  that  I  have  found 
for  you  in  Mark,  telling  how  our  Saviour  was 
hungry." 

A  little  girl  of  nine  rose  up  beside  Uncle 
Josiah  to  read.  "  Bless  the  child,"  whispered 
old  Mrs.  Jensen,  "  she  's  beginning  early ;  the 
Lord  send  she  's  never  hungry. ' 

With  the  fresh  tones  of  the  child's  voice 
mingled  from  the  street  the  sound  of  another 


1 76          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

child's  voice,  a  younger  child,  crying  piteously. 
Deborah  could  not  endure  it  her  heart  had 
grown  very  soft  and  tender  to  little  ones.  For- 
merly she  had  paid  no  attention  to  children  ;  all 
those  about  her  had  been  well  fed  and  well 
dressed  and  overwhelmed  with  luxuries,  while 
nurses  or  French  governesses  stood  always  at 
hand  to  admonish  "  do  this,"  or  "  say  that."  Deb- 
orah found  these  infants  of  the  rich  little  attract- 
ive ;  they  had  lacked  spontaneity  and  had  failed 
to  win  her  heart.  That  was  because  she  had 
had  but  little  heart  to  win ;  she  had  not  loved 
first,  to  be  loved  in  return  ;  she  had  not  devel- 
oped towards  herself  the  sweetness  of  those 
child-angels  of  happy  homes !  Now  the  children 
of  the  poor  wrung  her  heart ;  all  that  was  repul- 
sive in  their  persons  and  surroundings  made  her 
only  more  tender  towards  them.  When  she 
heard  the  wailing  of  this  unseen  child  in  the 
street,  she  left  the  organ  and  went  out  softly. 
She  found,  lying  on  the  dirty  pavement,  a  miser- 
ably ragged  and  dirty  baby  of  about  two  years 
old.  It  had  fallen  and  cut  its  face,  and  a  little 
line  of  blood  mingled  with  tears  and  dirt.  No 
one  had  come  to  help  it.  It  lay  there  in  its 
hopeless  misery,  abandoned  by  all.  Deborah 
picked  up  the  child,  and  seeing  a  girl  at  a  near 
window,  demanded,  "Who  owns  this  baby?" 
"Nobody,"  said  the  girl  roughly. 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  SYMPATHY.  1 77 

There  was  a  pail  of  water  on  a  bench  in  the 
little  lobby  before  the  Mission  Room.  Deborah 
sat  down  there,  and  with  her  handkerchief 
bathed  the  slight  wound  and  washed  the  baby's 
face  and  hands.  Then,  as  there  seemed  to  be 
nothing  else  to  do,  and  she  would  be  wanted  at 
the  organ,  she  returned  to  her  place,  carrying 
the  child.  Uncle  Josiah  was  saying, 

"  Sometimes  friends  forsake  us,  or  those 
whom  we  love  are  ungrateful  and  unkind.  Hus- 
bands desert  their  wives,  or  children  are  unduti- 
ful  to  parents.  Christ  has  been  through  all  such 
troubles ;  his  friends  forsook  him  and  fled ;  his 

brethren  did  not  believe  on  him.     The  blows 

^i 

fell  on  his  heart  before  they  reached  ours." 

"Yes,"  said  the  store-cleaner,  "  that  child's 
father  ran  away,  and  then  the  poor  mother  died. 
She  died  two  weeks  ago  ;  she  struggled  as  long 
as  she  could.  The  child  is  knocking  about  from 
one  to  another,  with  no  one  rightly  to  care  for 
it." 

"It  is  one  of  Christ's  little  ones  ;  we  must 
look  to  it,"  said  Uncle  Josiah.  "  Christ  was  the 
Prince  of  outcast  children ;  he  fled  as  a  babe 
from  the  wrath  of  Herod  into  Egypt." 

The  little  child  sat  looking  up  into  Deborah's 
earnest,  kind,  pitiful  face.  That  face  seemed  to 
awake  in  its  little  aching  heart  a  sense  of  all  its 
woes ;  it  put  up  its  lips,  tears  rolled  from  its  big 

Mr.  Grosvenor's  Daughter,          J2 


178  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

eyes,  and  sob  after  sob  shook  the  poor  frail  thin 
body.  Deborah's  heart  was  nearly  broken : 
what  should  she  do?  An  older  sufferer  could 
ask  for  what  was  needed,  but  this  small,  dumb 
thing  could  only  sob  in  its  pain.  She  gathered 
the  desolate  one  to  her  bosom  and  bowing  her 
face  upon  its  tangled  head  sobbed  in  sympathy. 
Uncle  Josiah  was  silent;  to  him  these  tender 
tears  were  as  a  rain  from  heaven :  God  himself 
had  touched  Deborah's  heart  and  changed  it  so. 
The  women  looking  on  cried  a  tear  or  two,  and 
all  hearts  were  softened  and  made  more  open  to 
the  message  of  the  sympathy  of  Christ.  Jean 
rose  and  went  out. 

Uncle  Josiah  opened  to  the  fourth  chapter  of 
Mark,  and  read  of  Christ  in  the  storm.  "  Have 
you  thought  how  very  tired  he  must  have  been, 
sleeping  so  heavily  in  all  the  storm  ?  And  the 
words  that  arouse  him  are  unjust  words,  '  Carest 
thou  not  that  we  perish?'  Remember  that  he 
does  care,  that  he  always  cares,  and  he  is  with 
us  in  every  storm  ;  we  can  cry  to  him." 

Jean  returned  and  sat  down  by  Deborah. 
"  Here  is  what  the  puir  bairnie  wants,"  she  whis- 
pered ;  "  it  is  hungry.  Look,  I  got  a  bun  and  a 
cup  of  milk."  At  the  sight  of  food  the  child  sat 
up  and  held  out  both  hands  with  a  gasping  cry. 
Jean  put  the  cup  to  its  lips.  Deborah  broke  off 
a  fragment  of  bread  and  dipped  it  in  the  milk  to 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  SYMPATHY.  179 

feed  the  hungry  one.  Engaged  in  these  services 
for  the  child,  these  two  heads  bent  together; 
Jean's  red  curls— cropped  in  a  prison! — rested 
against  Deborah's  smooth,  dark,  shining  hair.  It 
was  a  tender  sight,  and  moved  Uncle  Josiah  so 
that  he  could  scarcely  control  his  voice  as  he 
rose  to  read  passages  that  told  of  Christ's  sym- 
pathetic love  of  children,  his  gracious  sympathy 
for  mothers. 

The  child,  having  satisfied  its  hunger,  lay 
back  against  Deborah's  arm  and  slept.  She  gave 
it  to  Jean  when  Uncle  Josiah  requested  them  to 
sing,  "  When  I  survey  the  wondrous  cross." 

After  that  came  the  story  of  the  woman  who 
had  been  bowed  with  a  spirit  of  infirmity  for 
eighteen  years  and  was  loosed  from  her  bond- 
age on  the  Sabbath  day. 

"  Praise  God,"  said  old  Mrs.  Jensen,  "  that 
reads  like  me !  That  is  my  story !  Satan  bound 
me,  and  Christ  loosed  me — oh,  blessed  be  his 
name !" 

"Pray  for  me,"  said  Jean,  lifting  her  face 
from  above  the  child ;  "  I  need  help :  I  often  feel 
as  if  I  were  falling  into  the  fire  !" 

"  Jean,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  when  the  flames 
kindle  upon  thee  thou  shalt  not  be  burned,  for 
Christ  has  prayed  for  thee  that  thy  faith  fail 
not." 

When  the  meeting  was  over  Deborah  went 


i8o          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

home  carrying  the  child.  "What  wull  ye  do 
with  the  bairnie,  my  dear  ? "  asked  Agnes. 

"  Wash  it  first,"  said  Deborah,  the  practical. 

When  she  had  the  youngster  sitting  in  a  tub 
of  warm  suds,  its  few  poor  rags  looked  so  terri- 
bly filthy  that  she  calmly  put  them  all  into  the 
fire.  Therefore,  when  the  baby  was  scrubbed, 
and  her  hair  cut,  washed,  and  curled,  lo,  a  sweet, 
clean  little  cherub  without  a  thread  of  clothing ! 
But  Deborah  was  a  young  woman  of  resources ; 
two  pocket-handkerchiefs,  a  towel,  and  a  box  of 
small  safety  pins  provided  her  a  little  waist  and 
a  skirt ;  the  child  smiled,  and  played  with  the 
pins  that  fashioned  and  held  together  these 
garments.  Nurse  Jamieson  stood  by  laugh- 
ing. 

"  My  lambie,  you  mind  me  of  when  you  were 
a  bit  lassie,  playing  with  your  dolls.  Many  's 
the  time  your  nurse  had  to  take  you  and  your 
elegant  dolls,  clothes  and  all,  out  of  the  bath-tub  ! 
You  were  aye  fond  of  water." 

"  But  this  baby  cannot  be  laid  on  the  shelf 
like  a  doll,"  said  Deborah,  "  and  what  am  I  to  do 
with  it  ?  Nobody's  baby  !  and  a  creature  to  live 
for  ever.  O  Uncle  Josiah,  what  a  terrible  world 
it  is!" 

"As  for  the  child,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "to- 
morrow I  can  take  it  to  my  old  home,  where 
there  is  a  good  woman  who  will  gladly  be  a 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  SYMPATHY.  l8l 

mother  to  it.    She  has  been  wanting  to  adopt  a 
child  for  some  time." 

"  Then  I  should  think  you  would  have  found 
her  one  before,"  said  Deborah  with  vivacity. 
"  Will  she  love  this  one  and  be  kind  to  it  ?" 

"  I  can  answer  for  that ;  nothing  shall  be 
lacking." 

Deborah  mused  a  moment.  "  Uncle,  things 
seem  to  come  so  easily  and  so  exactly  to  your 
hand,  in  working  among  the  poor !  How  does 
it  happen  ?  You  are  surely  just  the  one  for  a 
city  missionary.  Do  all  the  city  missionaries 
have  such  friends  back  of  them  as  you  seem  to 
have  ?" 

Nurse  Jamieson  laughed  and  began  to  set  the 
table. 

"  I  wish,"  continued  Deborah,  "  that  I  had 
my  money  back,  so  that  I  could  keep  two  or 
three  people  busy  providing  homes  for  just  such 
pathetic,  pitiful  little  creatures  as  this !  Oh  me, 
how  I  have  wasted  opportunity !" 

When  Uncle  Josiah  started  off  with  the  child 
next  day,  Deborah  said,  "  Tell  your  Mrs.  Willis 
to  write  you  how  the  little  one  prospers,  and  tell 
her  to  call  her  Theodora,  and  to  feel  that  she  is 
God's  gift." 


1 82          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

GATHERED  IN  SORROW'S  GARDEN. 

"  Lest  she  should  fall  and  perish  utterly, 

God,  before  whom  lie  ever  bare 
The  abyssmal  depths  of  personality, 
Plagued  her  with  despair." 

WHEN  Deborah  went  with  her  uncle  to  the 
Sunday  afternoon  meeting  it  had  not  occurred 
to  her  that  she  would  there  receive  any  benefit 
to  herself.  Of  late  she  had  thought  so  much 
more  about  religion,  and  spoken  of  it  so  much 
more,  that  she  had  become  pretty  well  satisfied 
with  her  spiritual  experiences;  she  hardly 
thought  of  herself  as  needing  any  further 
enlightenment.  But  she  had  begun  to  lead  a 
life  of  self-abnegation  and  duty-doing  and  of 
thought  for  others,  so,  as  Uncle  Josiah  wished 
her  to  go  to  the  meeting,  and  her  music  and 
example  would  be  alike  useful,  she  deprived 
herself  of  an  afternoon  rest  and  went  to  the 
chapel.  Then  to  Deborah  it  happened  as  to  one 
who  sees  some  object  long  familiar  in  a  new 
light,  or  as  suddenly  filled  with  new  glory. 
Deborah  had  thought  that  she  knew  about  the 


GATHERED   IX   SORROW'S   GARDEN.  183 

life  of  Christ,  his  character,  his  work,  and  under- 
stood, even  by  some  personal  experience,  what 
he  might  be  to  the  human  soul.  But  as  she 
watched  those  worn,  anxious,  eager  faces,  and 
heard  the  words  about  the  sympathy  of  Christ, 
words  which  by  some  thirsty  souls  were  drunk 
in  as  the  parched  ground  receives  the  summer 
rain,  this  seemed  some  strange,  new  truth  which 
she  was  hearing.  Had  Christ  ever  before  seemed 
to  her  one  half  so  human,  one  half  so  divine? 
She  had  secretly  felt  that  she,  Deborah  Grosve- 
nor,  born  in  the  house  of  Dives,  had  accepted 
very  patiently  and  very  beautifully  the  change 
in  her  fortunes  ;  that  she  had  been  very  gentle, 
gracious,  and  condescending  in  making  friends 
with  these  working-girls.  But  oh  what  was  all 
this  compared  to  that  "  infinite  stoop "  beside 
which  all  human  lowliness  seems  only  pride  or 
hard  compulsion ;  what  was  all  her  making 
common  cause  with  these  toiling  women,  com- 
pared to  the  grace  of  Christ,  who  made  himself 
of  no  reputation  and  came  seeking  and  saving 
the  lost  ? 

Now  this  new  work  which  began  in  Debo- 
rah's soul  made  her  first  hate  and  suspect  her- 
self, accusing  herself  of  hardness  and  of  hypoc- 
risy, and  even  despairing  of  having  any  part  at 
all  in  the  Lord  Jesus,  seeing  that  she  had  been 
content  to  know  him  so  slightly  and  esteem  him 


1 84          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

so  little.  She  also  weighed  her  recent  work  in 
the  balances,  putting-  the  Christ  method  in  the 
one  scale  and  her  own  in  the  other. 

"  I  have  been  sympathizing  with  a  class  and 
on  general  principles,"  said  Deborah.  "  Except 
in  a  few  cases,  I  have  felt  as  if  it  would  be  a 
degradation  to  my  refinement  to  give  love  to 
those  struggling,  apathetic,  half-tidy,  often  noisy 
neighbors  of  mine.  What  I  have  given  has  been 
dole  and  duty,  not  the  spontaneity  of  the  heart 
pouring  out  its  treasure  in  sympathy,  giving 
love  first  and  then  service.  Do  I  love  any  of 
these  people  about  me?  Honestly,  no.  Do  I 
love  even  good  Nurse  Agnes  ?  I  fear — no ;  and 
yet  she  loves  me  most  devotedly.  Have  I  culti- 
vated love  even  to  my  Uncle  Josiah,  my  last  and 
only  relative?  I  have  loved  myself  so  much 
more  than  that  good,  gray  head !  And  all  the 
while  how  much  Christ  has  loved  me  !" 

And  now  into  the  soul  of  Deborah  grew  a 
new,  deep  love  for  Christ,  and  a  longing  for  his 
daily  companionship ;  and  side  by  side  with  this 
love  for  him  grew  a  true  love  for  the  lost  whom 
he  came  to  seek  and  to  save. 

Her  heart  being  now  enlarged,  she  began  to 
wonder  where  Oliver  spent  his  evenings,  and 
found  that  he  spent  many  of  his  hard-earned 
dimes  for  lessons  in  vice  taken  at  a  Dime  Mu- 
seum and  a  Dime  Varieties  Theatre.  Nor  was 


Mr.  Grosvenor's  Daughter.     Page  185. 


GATHERED   IN   SORROW'S   GARDEN.          185 

Oliver  the  only  boy  who  did  this.  She  beheld 
hundreds  of  boys  going  headlong  to  perdition, 
not  a  hand  held  out  to  save.  But  Oliver  was  the 
one  that  might  be  within  her  grasp.  What 
could  she  do  for  Oliver  ?  Sacrifice  the  one  thing 
that  reminded  her  of  former  rest  and  ease,  her 
evenings  on  the  house-top,  where  Uncle  Josiah 
had  set  plants  in  pots  and  tubs  brought  from  that 
very  obliging,  philanthropic  florist?  Deborah 
sighed  and  hesitated ;  but  Christ  "  pleased  not 
himself !"  Oliver  was  invited  to  the  house-top ! 
She  brought  there  for  him  books  and  papers. 
She  played  dominos  with  him  and  Uncle  Josiah 
played  checkers.  She  told  stories  and  remem- 
bered riddles,  and  Oliver  travelled  into  fairyland 
when  she  told  tales  of  foreign  countries  where 
she  had  been. 

"  Aunt  Hodge  says  I  'm  a  plague  to  you, 
coming  every  night,"  said  Oliver  bluntly ; 
"but  I  can't  keep  away  now  unless  you  chase 
me  away.  Seems  like  up  here  was  just 
heaven !" 

Yes,  it  was  worth  this  last  little  sacrifice. 
The  boy  had  a  cleaner  skin,  a  clearer  look, 
better  manners,  softer  tones,  nobler  thoughts, 
higher  principles  day  by  day. 

While  Oliver  was  entertained  on  the  house- 
top, Jean  sat  with  Nurse  Agnes  below  and 
talked  of  Scotland  and  of  childhood  and  of 


1 86          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  mither,"  and  Nurse  Agnes'  sweet  old  quaver- 
ing voice  sang  "  Rouse's  Version." 

Deborah  was  learning  how  to  draw  near  to 
the  girls  at  the  factory  in  a  real  heart  sympathy, 
to  find  out  their  private  grief,  and  to  deal,  not  ii 
generalities,  but  in  especial  comfort  for  especiall 
needs.  This  one  had  an  old  blind  father  living 
with  her ;  he  had  been  a  church-goer  once,  but 
now  he  could  not  read,  and  churches  were  so  far  i--. 

•A* 

away  from  their  quarter.  Here  was  a  case  for  vtr 
Uncle  Josiah.  Deborah  told  him  about  the  blind 
man,  and  Uncle  Josiah  visited  him,  read  to  him, 
sent  a  boy  to  lead  him  to  the  Mission  Chapel,  and 
found  a  lame  man  whose  eyes  were  good,  who 
agreed  to  read  often  to  the  blind  man,  Uncle 
Josiah  paying  some  small  stipend  for  the  ser- 
vice. Another  girl  had  a  sick  mother,  and  to 
her  Deborah  sent  flowers,  and  even  fruit,  which 
came  from  Uncle  Josiah 's  ever  liberal  florist. 
To  the  lame  sister  of  Bella  she  sent  little  toys, 
cards,  and  mementos  which  Uncle  Josiah  was 
always  finding  "  where  the  goods  were  stored." 
While  all  this  lightened  the  burden  of  sorrows  a 
little,  and  made  Deborah  the  most  popular  girl 
in  the  packing-room,  it  was  very  discouraging  to 
see  how  little  all  her  best  efforts  accomplished. 
As  she  and  Uncle  Josiah  sat  on  the  house-top, 
she  said,  "  Uncle,  as  I  read  somewhere,  it  is  all 
a  beggarly  little  effort  to  alleviate  human  misery 


GATHERED   IN   SORROW'S   GARDEN.  l8/ 

by  dividing  eighteenpence  equally  between  thir- 
teen poor  people." 

"  As  far  as  that  goes,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  if 
the  thirteen  poor  people  are  in  desperate  need, 
and  eighteenpence  is  all  that  we  have,  let  us  di- 
vide it.  Common  sense  uses  the  tools  it  has. 
Castaways  on  a  desert  island,  and  needing  a  boat, 
do  not  refuse  to  make  a  raft  of  logs  and  bamboo 
bindings  where  there  are  not  tools  at  hand  for 
a  better  craft.  When  only  one  human  soul  is 
helped  and  uplifted,  who  can  measure  the  good 
that  may  grow  out  of  that  ?  If  one  man  were 
helped,  really  helped  to  be  better  and  happier, 
to-day,  and  two  to-morrow,  and  four  next  day, 
and  eight  the  day  after,  how  long  would  it  take 
to  alter  the  moral  status  of  humanity  ?  This  is 
a  kind  of  arithmetical  progression  that  it  would 
be  well  to  study." 

"Yes;  but  oh  how  I  want  to  do  some  great 
thing !" 

"  It  is  God's  part  to  open  the  gate  ;  you  have 
to  stand  ready  to  enter !" 

It  was  one  morning  at  the  factory  when  the 
heat  and  the  noise  and  the  smells  from  the 
street  were  more  intolerable  than  ever,  when 
after  talking  of  their  troubles  for  a  time  one 
of  the  girls  was  threatened  with  hysterics. 

"  Fan  her,"  said  Mrs.  Beck  ;  "  but  where  is  a 
fan?" 


1 88          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Give  her  a  drink  of  water,"  said  another. 

"  Water !  They  have  not  filled  the  cooler 
since  yesterday  morning ;  and  a  pretty  cooler  it 
is,  with  never  any  ice  allowed  us." 

"  Let  me  bathe  her  head  with  it  any  way," 
said  Deborah  ;  "  and  now,  Katy,  rest  a  while.  I 
am  a  fast  worker ;  I  will  hurry  and  do  my  work 
and  yours,  too,  for  an  hour." 

Katy  leaned  her  head,  sobbing,  against  the 
window.  Twenty  girls  in  that  room,  and  no 
seats  but  one  chair  and  a  couple  of  old  boxes. 
Bad  for  them  to  stand  so  all  day,  was  it? 
Never  mind — only  working-girls,  and  the  own- 
er must  make  money,  even  if  it  was  the  price  of 
blood. 

"  If  we  worked  in  Jews'  shops  we  should  be 
better  treated,"  sighed  one.  "The  Jews  always 
give  the  best  treatment ;  they  have  wit  to  see 
that  in  the  end  it  pays  better." 

And  now  into  the  hum  of  angry  or  despair- 
ing voices  came  the  soft  strains  of 

"  Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid, 

Art  thou  sore  distressed  ? 
'  Come  to  me,  saith  One,  and,  coming, 

Be  at  rest.' " 

Thus  sang  Deborah.  The  spell  fell  on  the 
other  girls,  and  they  listened.  But  just  as  calm 
and  better  cheer  were  coming,  the  foreman, 
loud  and  angry,  tramped  in,  scowling  and 


GATHERED  IN  SORROW'S  GARDEN.          189 

snorting.     "  Stop  this  din !     I  wont  stand  the 
row  you  girls  keep  up  here." 

"There  is  no  row,  Mr.  Cullen,"  ventured  Mrs. 
Beck  ;  "all  are  busy." 

"  This  room  is  for  working,  not  for  singing ;  do 
you  hear  that  ?"  and  Mr.  Cullen  planted  himself 
before  Deborah,  belligerent. 

"  The  girls  are  hot  and  tired,"  said  Deborah, 
"  and  they  are  helped,  not  hindered,  by  what  I 
am  singing.  You  know  and  have  said  yourself 
that  this  room  gives  the  best  work  for  the  hours 
of  any  ;  and  here  we  never  quarrel." 

"  I  want  no  talk  from  any  one,"  said  the  fore- 
man ;  "  and  as  for  your  singing,  be  done  with  it, 
and  hold  your  tongues,  all  of  you." 

Deborah  laid  down  the  box  she  was  filling ; 
her  face  flushed,  and  the  old-time  pride  of  the 
daughter  of  Dives  rose  up  in  her  eyes.  "  I  am 
going  down  to  speak  to  the  firm,"  she  said,  and 
walked  out  of  the  packing-room,  stately,  her 
head  held  high.  She  went  down  to  the  office 
where  the  partners  were  seated  each  at  a  desk, 
each  smoking.  Neither  of  them  took  his  cigar 
from  his  mouth ;  each  one  felt  that  he  was  not 
expected  to  treat  a  working-girl  as  if  she  were  a 
lady.  "  I  came,"  said  Deborah,  "  to  complain  of 
your  foreman,  Mr.  Cullen.  The  upper  room  is 
excessively  hot ;  there  is  not  a  fan  in  the  room  ; 
no  ice  is  allowed  us  ;  the  water  in  the  cooler  has 


190          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

not  been  renewed  for  two  days ;  we  have  but  one 
chair  and  two  empty  candle-boxes  for  seats,  and 
when  the  girls  are  faint  they  are  obliged  to  lie 
down  on  the  floor.  To-day  I  was  trying  to  calm 
their  restlessness,  and  cheer  them  by  singing  to 
them,  and  Mr.  Cullen  came  in  suddenly  and  with 
abusive  language  ordered  me  to  be  silent.  Is 
there  any  law  here  against  singing  a  hymn 
when  it  does  not  interfere  with  the  work,  but 
rather  helps  it  on  ?" 

"  There 's  no  law  against  singing,  but  there 
is  a  law  that  the  foreman  must  be  obeyed.  How 
else  could  we  get  on  ?" 

"  True ;  but  when  the  foreman  is  rough  and 
cruel,  is  there  to  be  no  complaint  and  no  re- 
dress ?" 

"  No !  for  then  there  must  be  investigation, 
and  that  takes  time,  and  time  is  money.  Put  up 
with  what  you  get,  or  go;  that  is  all  we  can 
offer." 

In  came  Cullen.  "  Oh  you  're  here,  miss  ! 
What  have  you  made  out  by  complaining  ?  In 
my  view  the  sooner  you  are  out  of  this  estab- 
lishment the  better.  You  are  one  of  the  Social- 
ist women,  stirring  up  the  girls  to  strikes  and 
rebellions  and  unions." 

"  Pay  what  is  due  her,  Cullen,  and  say  no 
more.  That  will  be  the  shortest  way  out  of  it," 
said  the  senior  partner,  resuming  his  writing. 


GATHERED   IN  SORROW'S   GARDEN.          19 1 

Thus  it  happened  that  Deborah  only  returned 
to  the  upper  room  to  get  her  hat  and  her  sun- 
umbrella. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  're  out,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 
"  A  gentleman  whom  I  know  is  going  to  send 
six  children  from  the  slums  down  to  an  old 
farmhouse  by  the  sea  for  a  month.  The  house 
is  empty,  but  has  some  furniture — enough  to  get 
on  with.  He  will  send  down  two  young  women 
to  do  the  work,  and  you  can  go  and  be  matron 
and  house-mother.  Do  you  know  of  the  right 
girls  to  go  with  you  ?" 

"Yes!"  cried  Deborah;  "let  me  take  Bella 
and  her  little  lame  sister,  and  poor  sickly  Katy. 
They  11  get  on.  If  they  do  n't,  I  will  teach  the 
children  to  help  them." 

Within  three  days  Miss  Deborah  Grosvenor 
was  off  for  an  outing  unprecedented  in  her  ex- 
perience. She  had  charge  of  six  children  from 
the  slums,  and  of  two  young  girls  who  were 
simply  such  children  grown  up  and  toned  down 
by  hard  work.  Very  little  angelic  in  any  of 
them.  They  had  been  born  and  cradled  and 
bred  in  the  roughness  of  poor  homes,  with  hard- 
worked  mothers,  drunken  fathers,  no  religion, 
no  education — the  street  for  playground  and 
educational  institution.  Deborah  was  appalled 
at  the  language  which  she  heard.  And  yet  how 
much  she  found  in  all  these  rough  diamonds  to 


192  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

love  and  admire!  She  concluded  that,  left  to 
their  fate,  she  would  not  have  been  half  as 
good  as  the  worst  of  them !  Six  weeks  she 
stayed  at  the  old  farmhouse  by  the  sea.  The 
rooms  were  scantily  furnished,  the  beds  were 
hard,  the  table  was  plain,  but  after  all  she  en- 
joyed her  outing.  The  daughter  of  Dives 
learned  to  dig  sand-wells  and  build  sand- 
houses  and  make  mud-pies;  to  pick  blueber- 
ries and  wild  plums,  hunt  for  wintergreens  and 
fish  with  pin-hooks.  She  heard  more  slang  than 
in  all  her  life  before,  and  she  was  told  tales 
of  fights  and  ejectments  and  arrests  and  hair- 
breadth escapes  that  made  her  shudder;  but 
what  then  ?  these  were  facts,  and  thus  she  en- 
larged her  experiences.  Two  years  before,  the 
richest  of  toilets,  a  carriage  and  pair  and  two 
servants,  were  her  reasonable  accompaniments 
of  a  seaside  visit.  Now  two-dollar  boots  and  a 
rough  hat,  a  gingham  gown  and  cotton  gloves, 
were  her  array,  and  a  set  of  freckled  gamins 
were  her  attendants. 

Home  once  more,  and  the  duty  of  looking 
for  a  place  once  more  pressed  upon  her.  Per- 
haps places  were  more  plentiful  than  in  the 
spring.  But  after  three  days  of  walking,  apply- 
ing, answering  advertisements,  she  was  again 
discouraged.  One  afternoon  she  was  sitting 
alone  at  home ;  Nurse  Agnes  had  gone  out  to 


GATHERED  IN  SORROW'S   GARDEN.  193 

help  a  sick  neighbor.     There  was  a  knock  and 
a  brisk,  pleasant-faced  young  man  entered. 

"Are  you  Miss  Grosvenor?  I  come  from 
Rendel  Brothers'  shirt  factory,"  he  said.  "  They 
wish  to  engage  you  as  forewoman  for  the  finish- 
ing-room." 

"  I  think  you  must  have  made  a  mistake," 
said  Deborah,  "  and  were  sent  not  to  me,  but  to 
some  one  else." 

"  Oh  no,  indeed.  I  have  it  all  right — name, 
number,  and  all." 

"Still  there  must  be  a  mistake,  because  I 
know  nothing  of  the  business  at  all.  I  never 
saw  a  shirt  made,  and  do  not  know  what  is  done 
in  the  finishing-room,"  said  Deborah  honestly. 

"  Why,  it  is  easy,"  said  the  young  man  ;  "they 
make  the  stud-holes  and  the  button-holes,  and 
finish  off  the  ends  of  the  thread,  and  sew  on  the 
red  initial  letters,  and — well,  such  small  things 
as  that." 

"  But  for  a  forewoman  they  need  one  who 
understands." 

"You  will  have  an  opportunity  of  learning 
your  duties  first.  They  sent  for  you.  You  'd 
better  take  a  good  thing  when  you  get  it,  and 
they  want  you.  They  sent  for  me  just  that  way 
as  assistant  bookkeeper.  You  '11  come  up  and 
see  them  to-morrow,  wont  you?  Twenty-five 
dollars  a  month  it  is.  The  firm  are  going  in  for 

Mr.  GroBvenor'e  Daughter.  J* 


194          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

new  fads :  liberal  wages,  ventilation,  good  treat- 
ment, the  do-as-you  'd-be-done-by  style.  Of  course 
they  '11  bankrupt  at  it.  If  it  was  the  possible  way, 
other  firms  would  have  tried  it.  But  it  will  be 
fine  while  it  lasts.  Some  new  partner  has  gone 
in  who  believes  in  an  all-round  arrangement 
and  bringing  Christianity  into  your  business.  I 
reckon  it  can't  be  brought,  or  some  of  it  would 
have  got  into  business  sooner.  What  they  are 
after  is  a  forewoman  who  has  manners  and  sym- 
pathy, and  will  try  to  improve  the  girls.  You 
can  pick  up  the  finishing,  and  you  look  as  if  you 
could  keep  order  and  put  down  any  fooling. 
You  11  be  up  there  to-morrow  morning?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Deborah,  "  I  will  go  over  and  see 
what  is  wanted." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  just  the  opening  that  is  need- 
ed for  you,"  said  Uncle  Josiah.  "  You  may  do 
good  there." 

"  But  it  seems  dishonest  to  take  a  place  for 
which  I  am  not  fit." 

"  Make  yourself  fit." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Nurse  Jamieson,  "  tak'  what 
is  offered  ye.  '  He  that  winna  when  he  may, 
shanna  when  he  wud.'  It  is  an  auld  saying, 
'  Birth  's  gude,  but  breeding  's  better.'  Ye  hae 
baith  birth  an'  breedin  ,  and  ye  may  mak'  them 
o'  use  in  a  shirt  factory  as  weel  as  in  yer  ain 
drawing-room  when  ye  had  ane." 


GATHERED   IN  SORROW'S  GARDEN.          195 

"  It  seems  as  if  I  'd  be  taking  the  place  of 
some  one  who  by  knowledge  of  the  work  had  a 
better  right  to  it !  I  give  out  so  soon.  Why 
have  I  not  more  staying  power  to  endure  hard- 
ship like  the  other  girls  ?" 

"You  were  no  brought  up  like  the  lave, 
dearie,"  said  Agnes. 

"  '  For  daisies  liven  weel 

Whaur  roses  canna  grow.'  " 

"  I  ceased  to  be  a  rose  long  ago,"  said  Debo- 
rah. "  I  belong  now  to  the  kitchen-garden  order 
of  vegetation.  Uncle,  if  this  great  thing  does 
happen,  I  shall  try  and  make  a  place  for  Jean 
and  Oliver,  they  have  followed  my  fortunes  so 
faithfully." 

Applying  with  some  misgiving  at  the  office 
of  Rendel  Brothers,  Deborah  was  well  received. 
"  We  had  heard  of  you  and  think  you  are  the 
person  we  want  here.  Honest  work  for  fair 
wages,  and  mutual  good  offices  between  em- 
ployers and  employed — these  are  our  ideas. 
We  want  to  raise  the  moral  and  mental  status 
of  our  working-girls.  We  want  to  put  them  in 
a  fair  position  to  work  well,  and  then  we  shall 
expect  them  to  work  well.  Keep  order,  demand 
faithfulness  and  thoroughness,  and  try  to  make 
the  girls  feel  that  we  are  friends  and  not  ene- 
mies. As  for  the  finishing  work,  you  can  apply 
your  taste  and  judgment  to  that,  and  an  expe- 


196         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

rienced  workwoman  will  give  you  the  points  as 
to  shirt-finishing.  The  foreman  of  the  estab- 
lishment will  tell  you  all  that  you  need  to  know 
about  the  business." 

So  Deborah,  much  to  her  surprise,  found 
herself  set  up  as  forewoman  in  a  great  factory, 
where  she  was  to  put  in  operation  Christian 
and  philanthropic  principles,  as  well  as  demand 
good  work  in  fine  shirt-finishing. 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  197 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE. 

"  Go  back  to  earth,  thou  pilgrim  empty  handed, 
Go  back  to  hunger  and  the  toilsome  way ; 
Complete  the  task  which  duty  has  commanded, 
And  win  the  palm  thou  hast  not  brought  to-day." 

IN  the  shirt-factory  Deborah  found  herself  in 
an  entirely  new  atmosphere.  The  gentleman 
who  represented  the  firm  treated  her  with  cour- 
tesy, even  deference.  Deborah,  who  had  not  yet 
become  stereotyped  in  those  manners  with  which 
it  is  supposed  to  be  proper  for  the  hireling  to 
treat  the  employer,  found  herself  sometimes 
falling  into  familiar  conversation  with  him,  as 
easy,  perhaps  a  trifle  more  sensible  than  her 
aforetime  interlocutions  with  the  sons  of  Dives. 

"  I  do  not  understand  why  you  offered  me 
this  position.  I  fear,  in  my  ignorance  of  shirt- 
making,  I  may  prove  a  failure." 

"  We  especially  wanted  some  one  to  help  us 
uplift  our  girls.  It  is  not  easy  to  find  a  woman 
really  interested  in  the  improvement  of  the  fac- 
tory girls,  knowing  what  they  need,  and  able  to 
command  their  respect.  From  what  we  heard 
of  you  we  felt  that  you  would  be  the  right  one 
for  this  position." 

"  In  searching  for  work,  and  in  working  in 


198          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

various  establishments,"  said  Deborah,  "  I  have 
gained  some  experience  of  the  girls,  their  needs, 
their  disadvantages.  I  have  learned  to  sympa- 
thize by  being  of  them  and  sharing  their  troubles. 
But  while  I  have  learned  something  of  what  is 
needed,  and  greatly  desire  to  ameliorate  the  con- 
dition of  workers,  I  have  also  grown  nearly 
hopeless  of  improvements  !  So  much  money,  so 
much  personal  sacrifice,  will  be  required.  Who 
will  give  themselves  and  their  income  to  God  in 
such  work  ?  How  can  the  wants  of  the  working 
classes  be  supplied  ?  I  have  found  out  that  the 
profits  of  many  business  houses  are  not  large, 
competition  is  so  sharp.  Perhaps  I  realize  more 
fully  than  some  what  a  small  margin  some  of 
our  manufactories  have." 

"  No  doubt ;  but  if  we  cannot  do  everything 
that  we  would,  let  us  still  do  something.  There 
may  be  much  that  is  beyond  our  power ;  let  us 
do  what  is  within  our  power  to  uplift  our  girls. 
We  have  here  over  one  hundred  women,  mostly 
young,  working  for  us.  The  wages  are  low ;  we 
shall  try  to  raise  them  by  degrees,  but  mean- 
time we  shall  try  to  improve  the  social,  moral, 
and  physical  condition  of  the  girls,  so  that  they 
may  use  their  wages  in  the  best  way  possible. 
Speak  your  mind,  Miss  Grosvenor — what  are  the 
immediate  needs?" 

"  In   all  my  experience  of    factories,"  said 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  199 

Deborah,  "  fair  ventilation  and  toilet  facilities  are 
the  exception,  not  the  rule.  Health  would  be 
improved,  working  force  conserved,  comfort  and 
propriety  of  appearance  much  increased,  ex- 
haustion, irritation,  fainting  fits,  headaches, 
largely  prevented,  if  ventilation  were  good  and 
the  dressing-room  comfortable.  You  have  only 
two  windows  in  our  room  that  let  down  from 
the  top :  some  cannot  be  raised  at  all.  You  have 
one  large  dressing-closet,  in  good  order,  for  a 
hundred  and  twenty-five  workers !  In  the  candy- 
factory  there  were  two ;  in  the  box-factory  only 
one,  and  that  one  out  of  order.  The  close  stuffy 
working-rooms  and  lack  of  water  cause  dizziness, 
faintings,  hysterics,  dull,  sallow  complexions. 
The  girls  feel  that  they  have  a  right  to  such 
conditions  of  work  as  shall  enable  them  to  pre- 
serve whatever  they  have  of  strength  and  beauty. 
They  can  hardly  be  expected  to  work  with  zeal 
and  good  cheer  when  their  lives  and  health  are 
disregarded." 

Mr.  Ames  made  a  note  in  his  book.  "  We 
want  a  model  establishment :  speak  your  mind," 
he  said  calmly. 

"  The  girls  do  not  have  time  to  go  home 
for  dinner.  They  bring  a  lunch.  At  noon 
they  should  be  out  of  the  work-rooms,  and 
the  rooms  should  be  thrown  open  and  well 
aired.  The  girls  need  a  change  at  noon-time, 


200  MR.   GROSVENOR  S  DAUGHTER. 

and  now,  unhappily,  some  of  them  get  it  by  go- 
ing out  with  men  acquaintances  to  saloons  or  to 
beer-shops.  At  these  bars  the  girls  hear  bad 
language,  meet  ill-disposed  persons,  and  acquire 
a  taste  for  liquor  which  in  the  end  sends  many 
of  them  to  the  penitentiary.  These  noon  asso- 
ciations also  end  often  in  hasty,  unhappy  mar- 
riages. We  should  have  a  room  with  seats,  a 
table  or  two,  a  melodeon,  a  few  pictures,  some 
books,  papers,  and  magazines  ;  a  stove  where  the 
tea,  coffee,  soup,  or  milk  can  be  heated ;  a  few 
simple  appliances  for  gymnastics.  The  gym- 
nastics will  straighten  the  bent  shoulders, 
broaden  the  sunken  chests,  give  a  better  poise 
to  the  drooping  heads.  What  a  different  look- 
ing set  of  girls  we  should  have !  And  improve- 
ment in  health,  looks,  and  associations  would 
soon  bring  improvement  in  behavior." 

"Behavior?  That  is  it.  That  is  what  we 
are  wishing  to  improve." 

"  I  think  the  first  and  finest  method  for  ob- 
taining that  improvement,"  said  Deborah,  "is 
for  the  employer  to  be  personally  acquainted 
with  the  workers.  Let  him  go  among  them  as 
a  friend,  interested  in  their  welfare,  not  as  a 
sharp  critical  task-master.  Giving  them  kind- 
ness and  justice,  he  will  inspire  them  to  give 
kindness  and  justice  in  return." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  that  is  so.    I  will  bear 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF   SACRIFICE.  2OI 

it  in  mind.  Help  me,  by  noticing  what  goes  on. 
If  you  hear  of  wrongs  practised  in  this  estab- 
lishment, let  me  know  it  and  they  shall  be  re- 
dressed." 

"  It  was  a  wrong  that  brought  me  here  just 
now,"  said  Miss  Grosvenor.  "  In  the  bosom- 
making  room  there  is  a  girl  who  came  by  some 
accident  late  this  morning.  It  is  a  raw  rainy 
day  ;  the  girl  was  locked  out  by  the  foreman  for 
being  late.  She  had  to  walk  the  streets  for 
nearly  five  hours,  without  either  umbrella  or 
overshoes !  Is  she  made  of  iron  to  endure  such 
exposure  as  that?  She  is  in  my  room  now, 
drenching  wet.  I  have  had  her  take  off  her 
shoes  and  her  poor  ragged  stockings,  and  rub 
her  feet  with  the  only  crash  towel  that  has  been 
put  at  the  service  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
working-girls!  This  girl  is  exhausted,  nearly 
fainting.  Did  a  half-hour's  lateness,  caused  by 
sickness  in  her  home,  deserve  such  a  barbarous 
punishment?" 

"  That  is  outrageous  !"  cried  Mr.  Ames,  who, 
naturally  generous  and  impulsive,  was  doubly 
stirred  by  Deborah's  vehemence.  "  I  will  not 
have  a  man  in  the  establishment  who  can  be 
guilty  of  such  an  atrocity !" 

But  Deborah  was  just,  and  capable  of  looking 
at  both  sides  of  a  question.  Mr.  Stokes  had 
been  cruel,  but  had  perhaps  acted  only  accord- 


202          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ing  to  his  light.  If  he  were  discharged  his 
family  might  suffer.  She  interposed  for  him. 

"  He  may  have  done  only  what  he  has  been 
trained  to  do  in  other  establishments,  and  sup- 
posed perhaps  that  he  was  consulting  your  in- 
terests. He  would  not  repeat  the  act  if  forbid- 
den. Besides,  the  affair  now  is  to  help  the  girl 
herself." 

Mr.  Ames  called  for  Stokes.  "Go  to  the 
nearest  restaurant  and  order  a  hot  dinner  sent 
over  for  this  Annie  Keep  that  has  been  locked 
out.  Buy  also  for  her  a  gossamer  and  a  pair 
of  overshoes.  Then  step  here,  will  you,  and 
you  and  I  will  talk  over  this  matter  of  disci- 
pline. You  do  not  quite  understand  our  methods, 
I  think." 

Stokes  went  out  confounded.  He  had  worked 
in  factories  for  twenty  years  and  had  never  seen 
a  working-girl  thus  considered ! 

Deborah  administered  to  Annie  a  hot  dinner, 
dry  foot-gear,  and  an  exhortation  against  tardi- 
ness. 

"  I  declare,  Miss  Grosvenor,"  said  the  girl, 
"  I  will  try  to  be  prompt  and  regular.  I  know 
we  girls  do  make  trouble  by  being  late  or  stay- 
ing away,  and  here  we  get  better  treatment 
than  in  most  places  where  we  work.  Mr.  Ames' 
kindness  will  do  me  more  good  than  twenty 
lockings  out." 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  203 

"  And  what  next  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ames,  when 
the  shirt  factory  of  Rendel  Brothers  rejoiced  in 
a  long,  narrow,  fairly  well  lighted  room,  with  a 
stove  at  one  end,  a  table  to  eat  by,  some  small 
tables  for  games  and  books ;  a  melodeon  that 
was  seldom  silent  at  the  noon-hour  and  con- 
tributed much  to  the  general  pleasure,  especially 
when  Deborah  herself  played  on  it ;  and  a  few 
simple  appliances  for  gymnastic  exercises. 
Deborah  went  to  an  evening  class  in  gymnas- 
tics, held  at  the  Young  Women's  Christian  As- 
sociation, and  by  zealous  practice  there  was  able 
to  instruct  her  girls. 

"  What  next  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ames. 

Deborah  had  grown  bold  with  indulgence; 
people  often  do. 

"A  place  for  the  girls  in  the  evenings! 
Their  homes  or  rooms  are  often  crowded,  noisy, 
hot  in  hot  weather,  cold  in  winter.  They  are 
weary  and  dull  after  a  long  day's  work,  they 
crave  amusements  like  other  people,  and  they 
wander  about  the  streets.  Then  they  fall  into 
bad  company  sometimes,  and  usually  stay  out 
far  too  late,  so  that  they  do  not  get  sleep 
enough.  If  the  girls  of  reputable,  Christian 
homes  are  not  expected  or  allowed  to  run  alone 
in  the  streets  until  ten  or  eleven  o'clock,  why 
should  the  working-girl  be  left  to  do  it  un- 
checked ?" 


204  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  do  n't  know  why  she  should," 
said  Mr.  Ames. 

"  Let  us  have  a  room  where  we  can  give  our 
girls  singing-classes  in  the  evening.  I  don't 
mean  merely  to  have  ladies  dress  up  and  sing 
at  them,  but  some  one  who  knows  how  to  sing 
with  them,  plain  simple  songs,  ballads,  hymns, 
easy  pleasant  things,  lullabies,  and  songs  that 
shall  rouse  a  love  of  nature.  Let  us  teach  them 
to  march  to  music,  so  that  they  will  learn  better 
how  to  carry  themselves  and  to  be  graceful. 
Who  knows  where  some  of  these  girls  may 
come  out  ?  Fortune  has  strange  changes  in  this 
country." 

"And  what  else  shall  we  do  beside  music 
and  marching?" 

"  We  might  have  lectures,  lectures  by  men 
and  by  women,  especially  by  women,  who  will 
tell  them  how  and  why  to  preserve  health,  what 
to  eat,  what  to  wear,  what  to  do.  Let  them 
know  why  their  skins  need  thorough  washing 
and  their  clothes  changing,  and  that  graham 
bread  is  more  nutritious  than  white,  and  eggs 
than  meat,  and  bananas  than  candy.  Let  us 
have  stereopticon  talks,  and  show  them  the 
Polar  Regions,  the  Heart  of  Africa,  the 
Queens  of  England,  the  scenes  of  Puritan  and 
Pilgrim  life.  Let  us  tell  them  the  stories  of  the 
Bible,  and  make  them  acquainted  with  the 


ON  THE  ALTAR   OF   SACRIFICE.  205 

heroes  of  the  faith  !    And  poetry,  let  them  hear 
poetry  too!" 

"  Miss  Grosvenor,  it  is  plain  to  be  seen,  even 
if—  '  and  then  Mr.  Ames  stopped  suddenly. 
What  was  he  about  to  say  ? 

"How  can  we  arrange  such  a  room?"  asked 
Mr.  Ames. 

"  Can  we  not  begin  by  using  the  largest  ma- 
chine-room for  it  ?  There  is  a  chair  for  every 
machine." 

"  We  will  do  something,"  said  Mr.  Ames. 
"  I  am  deeply  interested,  and  the  firm  desires 
to  have  a  model  establishment." 

"There  is  a  regalia  factory  on  one  side  of 
you,  and  a  paper-bag  factory  on  the  other.  Why 
not  induce  them  to  join  you?" 

"  Why  the  girls  in  the  bag  factory  are  a  ter- 
rible crew !  The  employer  there  declares 
openly  that  so  long  as  he  gets  plenty  of  work 
well  done,  he  does  not  ask  nor  care  how  bad  his 
girls  are !  It  is  an  old  saying,  '  Like  master 
like  man,'  and  it  is  just  as  true  of  masters 
and  factory  girls.  If  they  are  expected  to 
be  good,  and  helped  to  be  good,  then  it  is  very 
likely  that  they  will  be  good." 

"  Mr.  Ames  is  to  have  a  room  for  evening 
gatherings,  a  social  room,"  reported  Deborah  to 
Uncle  Josiah ;  "  and  I  suspect  that  I  am  exorbit- 
ant in  my  desires,  for  the  more  that  is  conceded 


206  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

the  more  I  want,  and  the  more  miserable  I  feel 
about  the  daughters  of  the  poor  into  whose 
family  circle  I  have  come  by  adoption." 

"What  now?"  demanded  Uncle  Josiah. 

"  The  moral  condition  of  these  my  working 
sisters  is  influenced  for  evil,  tremendously  influ- 
enced, by  the  tenement-house  system.  How  far 
their  homes  are  from  their  work,  and  some  shops 
are  always  open  until  late,  and  at  some  seasons 
of  the  year  most  shops  and  factories  run  late ; 
and  home  the  unprotected  girls  go,  especially  on 
Saturday  night,  alone.  Then  again,  I  find  that 
rents  being  high  and  wages  low,  these  poor  fam- 
ilies eke  out  an  income  by  crowding  men  lodgers 
into  their  over-crowded  homes.  And  then  too 
from  village  and  country  the  girls  crowd  into 
the  city,  a  vast  army,  looking  for  work,  and  they 
have  no  homes,  no  guardians,  no  restraints ;  they 
suffer  every  conceivable  misery,  fail  to  find 
work,  and  are  cast  into  long  periods  of  idleness 
which  they  enter  penniless,  because  their  wages 
are  only  sufficient  for  the  most  exacting  needs  of 
the  periods  while  they  are  earning  them.  Oh, 
uncle,  it  is  the  old  cry — what  shall  we  do  for  our 
sisters?" 

"  There  are  Homes  and  the  Christian  Asso- 
ciations." 

"  Yes,  uncle,  good,  but  insufficient.  In  some 
the  board  is  five  or  six  dollars  a  week.  Five  or 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF   SACRIFICE.  2O/ 

six  dollars  for  a  girl  without  a  dime  !  What  is 
that  old  story  of  Tantalus,  with  the  waters  rising 
just  below  the  lowest  level  of  his  thirsty  lips  ? 
Others  of  these  Homes  will  only  receive  lodgers 
and  boarders,  for  two  weeks,  some  for  a  month. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  they  must  go,  whether 
or  not  they  have  secured  work  or  home.  What 
then  ?  The  time  of  being  cast  helpless  on  the 
streets  is  only  set  a  little  further  off.  Two 
weeks !  one  month  !  Did  I  get  work  so  soon  ? 
Is  work  so  easy  to  get  ?" 

Then  Deborah  gave  a  little  low  laugh — she 
laughed  more  now  than  in  Dives'  days.  "  Do  you 
know,  Jean  has  the  greatest  influence  over  the 
girls  at  the  shirt-factory  ?  What  do  you  think  I 
did  ?  Since  we  took  on  Bella  and  Martha  and 
that  pretty  little  dunce  who  wanted  to  tend  a 
bar — my  friends  from  the  candy-factory — I  per- 
suaded Jean  to  hire  two  rooms  and  all  four  of 
them  live  together.  Jean  with  her  courage  and 
knowledge  of  the  world  defends  the  others,  and 
their  company  and  her  responsibility  for  them 
help  to  keep  Jean  from  falling.  I  believe  she 
is  a  Christian,  but  the  chains  of  habit  are  so 
strong !  and  the  hand  of  Christ  is  often  held  out 
through  the  human  hand ;  his  voice  speaks  in 
humanity !" 

And  now  for  a  whole  year  Deborah  Grosvenor 
reigned  as  forewoman  in  a  shirt-factory  finishing 


2o8          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

room.  She  learned  much  about  shirt-finishing, 
much  about  herself,  and  a  deal  more  about  work- 
ing women.  She  was  so  busy  that  she  had  no 
time  to  repine,  and  learning  many  things  for  the 
use  of  her  girls,  she  improved  much  on  her  own 
part,  while  the  gymnastics  and  other  exercises 
entered  upon  for  the  sake  of  the  girls  made 
her  much  more  active  and  vigorous  then  she 
had  been  when  she  fed  on  dainties  and  lay 
in  down,  and  did  nothing  from  morning  until 
night  but  consider  the  preferences  of  Miss  Gros- 
venor. 

During  all  this  time  since  she  left  the  region 
of  luxury  and  went  down  to  live  and  work  in  the 
Lazarus  Quarter,  she  had  corresponded  with 
some  regularity  with  Miss  Leila  Stirling.  At 
first  she  had  shrunk  from  replying  to  Leila's 
warm  letters.  Then  she  began  to  relent  a  little 
before  hearty  human  interests,  and  wrote  more 
freely  of  her  life,  her  experiences,  her  work,  the 
ways  and  fortunes  of  working-girls.  To  all 
these  revelations  Leila  lent  a  willing  ear,  and  the 
two  began  to  plan  what  might  be  some  day,  if 
ever  they  could  work  together  for  the  Daughters 
of  Lazarus. 

When  Deborah  had  been  one  year  in  the 
shirt-factory,  she  received  from  Leila  news  of  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Stirling.  Deprived  of  the  close 
companionship  of  years  and  of  that  demand  for 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  2OQ 

constant  service  which  her  invalid  mother  had 
made  upon  her,  Leila  felt  as  if  she  had  neither 
place  nor  errand  longer  in  this  world.  "  What 
have  I  left  ?"  she  wrote  to  Deborah. 

"  You  have  your  Lord's  legacy  left  you,  the 
poor,"  replied  Deborah.  "  For  this  cause  you 
may  have  come  to  the  kingdom  at  such  an  hour 
as  this.  You  have  been  bereft  of  all  near  rela- 
tives, but  your  fortune  has  been  left  you.  I  was 
bereft  of  fortune,  and  I  have  gone  before  you  in 
the  way  of  finding  out  the  needs  and  sorrows  of 
the  poor.  Now  I  can  tell  you  what  is  needed : 
mine  will  be  the  work  of  suggesting,  but  how 
grand  your  mission,  Leila,  in  performing !  Come 
home  and  go  to  work." 

The  letter  roused  Leila  Stirling.  She  came 
home  with  large  plans  and  hopes,  and  her  first 
proposal  was  that  Deborah  should  live  with  her, 
share  her  fortune  and  work  jointly  with  her. 
"  You  have  had  enough  of  hardship,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  known  nothing  of  real  hardship," 
said  Deborah,  "  because  Nurse  Agnes  and  Uncle 
Josiah  have  shielded  me  from  it.  If  you  knew 
the  real  lives  of  the  working-girls,  Leila,  you 
would  know  what  hardship  is." 

They  were  in  Deborah's  small  hall  room  in 
Romaine  Court.  Deborah  wore  a  dress  of  plain 
coarse  woollen  goods— a  dress  made  by  herself. 
Her  shoes  no  longer  cost  eight  dollars  a  pair; 

Mr.  GroBvenor's  Daughter.  1 


2io          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

not  a  bit  of  lace  or  jewelry  was  to  be  seen  on 
Dives'  disinherited  daughter.  Leila  thought 
that  this  was  poverty  and  hardship  enough. 

"  You  will  not  come  and  share  with  me  ?" 

"No;  your  voice  calls  me,  but  I  feel  sure 
it  is  not  God's  voice." 

Leila  went  away  disappointed ;  her  home 
looked  so  lonely.  Why  would  not  Deborah 
come  to  her  ?  She  left  the  city  to  go  to  her 
country  home. 

A  bridge,  a  trestle  giving  way !  a  crash ! 
and  when  helping  hands  came,  there  was  laid 
by  the  roadside,  in  the  moonlight,  a  limp  and 
lonely  form. 


THE  RETURN  TO  THE   CLASSES.  211 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE   RETURN  TO  THE  CLASSES. 

11 '  O  angel,  why  art  so  glad  of  face, 

Who  bring'st  me  nothing  but  pain  and  woe  ?' 
The  smile  of  the  angel  filled  the  place : 
4  Unto  his  chosen  God  bids  me  go.'  " 

A  KNOCKING  at  midnight  at  the  door  of  a 
house  in  Romaine  Court.  "  Does  Miss  Grosve- 
nor,  Miss  Deborah  Grosvenor,  live  here?"  Even 
in  the  darkness  and  the  haste  there  was  the 
touch  of  astonishment  felt  by  the  servant  of 
Dives  that  a  daughter  of  Dives  had  fallen  so 
low !  Yes,  Miss  Grosvenor  lived  there.  "  It  is 
Miss  Leila  Stirling  sends  for  her.  I  have  the 
carriage  at  the  entrance  of  the  court.  I  thought 
maybe  I  could  not  turn.  It  is  a  railroad  acci- 
dent, and  Miss  Leila  is  hurt.  She  spoke  first  a 
few  minutes  after  eleven  and  said  Miss  Grosve- 
nor's  name  twice,  so  we  came  for  her.  Will  she 
hurry,  please  ?" 

Yes,  Deborah  and  Uncle  Josiah  made  haste, 
and  soon,  along  the  paved  streets  and  under  the 
electric  lights,  rolled  far  from  the  purlieus  of 
Romaine  Court,  back  to  the  land  of  affluence. 
There  was  Leila  lying,  unconscious  again, 
amid  the  splendors  of  her  city  home,  where  they 


212  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

had  brought  her ;  three  doctors,  her  nurse,  her 
maid,  her  housekeeper — crying,  most  of  the 
women,  for  Leila  was  one  to  win  liking;  and 
then,  very  evidently,  a  good,  easy,  well-paid 
place  was  slipping  from  each  of  them  as  life 
slipped  from  their  shattered  mistress.  There 
was  not  one  of  Leila's  blood  near  her ;  not  one 
endeared  to  her  by  the  tie  of  kindred.  Deborah 
took  the  limp  white  hands  in  hers  and  softly 
called  Leila's  name  in  her  ear.  At  first  there 
was  no  answering  sign,  but  presently  the  chilly 
hands  tightened  a  little  about  Deborah's  fingers. 

"  Deborah,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  God  has 
called  you  here,  and  you  must  stay  as  long  as 
he  wills.  This  way  lies  your  nearest  duty." 

"  Yes :  I  cannot  leave  her,  my  Leila,  my 
friend !"  said  Deborah,  kneeling  by  the  bed. 
For  the  moment  the  sight  of  Leila — this  inte- 
rior, so  like  the  home  of  her  own  life  until  this 
short  time  past — carried  Deborah  away  from  all 
that  had  intervened  since  her  father's  death, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  as  free  to  go 
and  come  as  in  her  days  of  ease.  Then  the 
working  woman  reverted  to  the  thought  of  her 
work.  The  factory !  Her  duties  there !  She 
led  Uncle  Josiah  apart. 

"  Uncle,  I  cannot  leave  Leila,  but  how  can  I 
abandon  my  place,  and  leave  all  those  girls 
to-morrow  morning  without  a  head?  I  have 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  21$ 

them  in  good  training,  but  there  will  be  anar- 
chy there,  sure.  And  the  firm  have  been  so 
good  to  me !" 

"Cannot  you  designate  some  one  to  take 
your  place  ?  Jean  ?" 

"Jean  could  not.  She  lacks  a  breeding  that 
would  give  her  authority.  In  fact,  if  she  was 
suddenly  elevated  to  be  a  forewoman  the  girls 
would  try  to  play  tricks  upon  her,  and  Jean 
would  fight !  I  will  tell  you — Martha  can  take 
my  place.  She  is  a  woman  of  intelligence  and 
education ;  she  has  never  associated  much  with 
the  others.  Tell  Mr.  Ames  to  give  Martha  my 
position ;  and  tell  Jean  privately  that  I  expect 
her  to  lead  the  girls  in  a  strict  attention  to 
order.  Tell  Jean  while  this  dear  friend  here 
lies  dying,  that  she,  my  other  friend,  must  not 
break  my  heart  by  any  fall !  And,  uncle,  look 
after  Oliver." 

"  I  will.  You  are  already,  in  your  love  and 
cares,  one  of  this  large  family  of  the  poor.  Christ 
also  belonged  to  it." 

Yes;  following  God's  providence  as  the 
pointing  of  a  divine  index  finger,  Deborah  had 
gone  down  among  the  world's  workers  to  find 
work:  following  still  the  way  chosen  for  her, 
and  therefore  chosen  by  her,  she  came  back  to 
the  home  of  Dives.  She  had  learned,  in  the 
words  of  the  good  old  Saxon  proverb,  to  "  Doe 


MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ye  nexte  thynge,"  and  found  comfort  in  the 
thought  that  the  child  of  God  never  walks  with 
aimless  feet.  The  great  fruit  of  this  lesson  well 
learned  is,  that  with  undivided  hearts  we  can 
address  ourselves  to  the  duty  of  the  hour,  giv- 
ing all  of  ourselves  to  whatever  we  have  to  do. 

Sitting  in  the  subdued  light  of  Leila  Stir- 
ling's quiet  room,  and  watching  the  thin  white 
face,  Deborah  felt  dawning  over  her  soul  a 
strong  conviction  that  Leila  ought  to  live,  that 
her  errand  in  this  world  was  not  done,  that 
•work  still  waited  those  hands.  She  went  into 
the  next  room  where  one  of  the  surgeons  waited. 
"  Doctor,  will  she  live  ?" 

"There  is  very  little  probability  of  it — not 
one  chance  in  a  hundred." 

"  And  if  she  does  live,  if  that  one  in  the  hun- 
dred is  in  her  favor  ?" 

"A  cripple,"  the  doctor  replied,  "who  can 
never  leave  her  couch.  She  had  better  die, 
poor  lonely  girl !" 

"How  do  we  know,"  said  Deborah  boldly, 
"what  is  best?  One  can  glorify  God  in  the 
fires.  And  if  God  is  glorified  and  humanity  is 
served,  what  is  there  to  lament  over?  The 
longest  life  is  not  very  long,  and  heaven  will 
find  reward  for  it  all." 

The  doctor,  a  gray-headed  man,  rose  and 
took  her  hand.  "  Is  this  Deborah  Grosvenor,  the 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  21$ 

Deborah  Grosvenor  who  used  to  say  that  she 
had  no  heart?  who  lived  only  for  self,  whose 
ears  seemed  unable  to  understand  language  that 
touched  religion  or  the  life  beyond?" 

"  This,"  said  Miss  Grosvenor,  "  is  Deborah, 
"  somewhat  made  over  in  the  fires  of  affliction." 

"Then,  my  child,  thank  God  for  affliction. 
Gold  is  refined  in  the  furnace,  and  silver  is  long 
tried  by  fire,  and  the  fine  pottery  is  made  of 
well-trodden  clay.  Yet  many  of  us  are  content 
to  build  up  character  out  of  untempered  mortar ! 
If  you  have  grown  better,  less  selfish,  and  so 
more  Christlike,  out  of  any  trouble,  thank  God 
for  it." 

"  I  do,"  said  Deborah.  "  But  I  came  here  to 
speak  of  Leila.  I  want  her  to  live.  She  was 
just  beginning  really  to  live.  She  was  planning 
to  do  good.  I  want  her  to  carry  out  her  plans. 
Even  if  she  is  a  cripple  on  her  couch,  if  she  has 
a  head  to  think  and  a  heart  to  feel,  and  money 
to  do  her  bidding,  she  can  be  happy  and  make 
the  world  happier.  The  shut-in  ones  are  not 
idlers  and  wasted  lives." 

"Deborah,"  said  the  surgeon,  "we  will  try 
and  give  her  courage  to  live.  You  can  hardly 
realize  the  power  that  that  thing  called  spirit 
can  exercise  over  that  other  thing  called  body. 
It  can  help  stay  the  disintegration  of  disease, 
and  turn  back  towards  life  the  tides  that  have  set 


216          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

towards  death.  Look  at  Leila :  consider  what  her 
future  may  be.  Have  you  courage  to  pray  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Deborah ;  "  I  have  always  cour- 
age to  pray,  if  I  put  in  '  Thy  will  be  done.'  " 

And  so  the  days  went  on.  At  first  Leila  was 
scarcely  conscious,  and  the  battle  was  purely  a 
physical  one,  urged  in  her  behalf  by  scientific 
skill  and  tenderest  care.  During  these  days  she 
only  saw  her  nurses,  physicians,  and  Deborah. 
Friends  and  acquaintances  came  to  inquire  for 
Miss  Stirling,  and  Deborah,  after  a  few  days, 
went  down  to  the  drawing-room  to  see  some  of 
these.  Uncle  Josiah  had  sent  her  a  trunk  of 
clothing  which  she  had  not  used  in  Romaine 
Court.  Thus  she  re-appeared  in  the  Stirling 
drawing-room,  among  the  old-time  acquaint- 
ances, as  truly  one  of  the  upper  class  as  ever. 

"  Why !  This  is  never  Deborah  Grosvenor ! 
How  came  you  here?" 

"  I  came  to  stay  with  Leila  and  help  her  to 
live." 

"  And  where  have  you  been  for  so  long  ? 
Nearly  two  years !  What  an  age !  Have  you 
been  to  Europe  or  on  a  trip  around  the  world  ?" 

"Neither.  I  have  been  here  in  the  city  all  the 
time." 

"  Impossible !  Where  have  you  buried  your- 
self? We  heard  that  you  had  lost  all  your 
money.  Of  course  that  is  not  true." 


ON   THE  ALTAR   OF   SACRIFICE. 

"  Yes,  it  is  absolutely  true,  and  I  have  been 
living  in  a  place  called  Romaine  Court,  working 
for  my  living  in  a  factory.  My  uncle  has  been 
with  me,  a  city  missionary." 

"  Eh  ?  What  is  that  ?  I  thought  mission- 
aries only  went  to  the  heathen — to  foreign  folks." 

"  For  that  matter,  there  are  plenty  of  foreign 
folks  here  in  the  city,  and  plenty  of  heathen, 
and  a  number  of  city  missionaries,  but  not  half 
enough.  I  should  like  to  be  one  myself — only  I 
did  not  know  enough." 

"  Why,  you  had  French  and  music  and  draw- 
ing and  dancing,  and  no  end  of  accomplishments ; 
what  on  earth  did  you  need  to  know  more  ?" 

"Something  useful,  and  something  about 
humanity.  However,  I  am  learning." 

"  And  what  are  you  learning?" 

"  How  the  other  half  of  the  world  lives, 
what  it  needs,  what  it  has,  what  it  does  not  have, 
how  it  makes  its  living,  and  what  can  be  done 
for  it.  I  mean  for  the  women  other  half." 

"  I  do  n't  understand  a  word  that  you  are  say- 
ing. You  might  as  well  be  talking  Greek  to  me." 

"  If  you  will  come  and  live  and  work  as  I 
have  for  two  years  past,  you  will  soon  find  out 
what  I  mean." 

"  What,  really  work  in  a  factory  among  hor- 
rid grimy  people  !  I  should  catch  some  disease, 
or  get  queer,  or  something." 


218          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  I  have  caught  no  disease,  but  I  may  be 
queer.  And  let  me  tell  you,  if  Leila  gets  well, 
I  mean  by  God's  help  to  make  her  as  queer  as  I 
am.  Then  there  will  be  two  of  us  to  help  our 
sisters  who  work  for  daily  bread — Leila  with 
money,  I  with  work." 

"  I  hope  she  will  get  well,  poor  dear !  It 
seems  so  terrible  to  die,  to  drop  out  of  life  so 
suddenly !  I  wish  people  never  had  to  die.  Per- 
haps when  I  am  real  old  I  shall  not  be  so  horri- 
bly afraid  of  death  as  I  am  now.  I  wish  I  could 
lose  that  fear." 

"  Come  down  and  live  among  the  poor,  and 
you  '11  lose  it.  I  find  people  there  more  afraid 
of  living  than  of  dying.  When  life  is  only  ter- 
ror and  pain  I  think  people  care  less  for  it :  but 
when  one  feels  sure  that  heaven  is  a  home,  and 
that  there  is  a  Father  and  a  Brother,  and  the 
glorious  company  of  the  saints  of  all  ages,  I 
think  that  the  heart  is  drawn  there,  and  all  fear 
of  dying  is  done  away." 

"  Deborah  Grosvenor !  You  are  not  the  same 
at  all !  Of  course  with  poor  Leila  lying  up  there 
as  she  is,  and  all  that,  it  is  natural  that  one 
should  talk  so.  But  I  feel  just  as  if  I  had  been 
to  a  funeral!  And  yet  you  don't  look  as  un- 
happy and  discontented  as  you  used  to,  Deborah. 
You  always  looked  so  bored  !" 

-"  Because  I  was  so  bored.     Now  I  have  been 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  2 19 

too  busy  to  be  bored.  I  have  been  doing  my 
best  to  get  shoes,  also  butter  for  my  bread.  I 
am  very  sorry,  Grace,  that  I  have  made  you  feel 
like  a  funeral,  for  I  am  a  much  happier  and  more 
contented  person  than  I  used  to  be.  If  all  of 
you  girls  that  I  used  to  know  took  up  some 
really  useful,  helpful  work,  you  would  be  happier. 
I  do  n't  mean  that  you  should  go  to  the  factory 
and  earn  shoes,  as  there  is  no  need  of  that,  but 
I  mean  that  you  might  work,  like  more  fortu- 
nate but  loving  and  helpful  sisters,  for  the  girls 
that  must  work  in  factories  and  earn  their 
shoes." 

"  You  '11  get  over  all  those  crochets  now  that 
you  have  come  back  to  live  where  you  belong. 
As  for  those  other  girls,  they  are  used  to  it,  and 
I  do  n't  believe  they  mind  it ;  and  if  they  do,  it 
can't  be  helped ;  the  subject  is  too  big.  I  'm 
afraid,  Deborah,  you  are  running  into  com- 
munism or  socialism,  or  something  like  that. 
Do  n't  have  a  fad  of  that  kind,  I  beg  of  you,  it 
is  such  bad  form.  If  you  must  have  a  hobby,  it 
should  be  dogs — pugs,  for  instance — or  orchids, 
or  perhaps  china  collecting." 

"  Go  and  spin,"  laughed  Deborah.  "  If  our 
grandmothers'  wheels  had  not  gone  out  of  date, 
some  of  us  would  have  been  more  sensible.  We 
respect  what  we  earn,  because  we  know  the 
worth  of  it  in  work  and  weariness,  in  what  we 


220  MR.   GROSVENOR  S  DAUGHTER. 

call  '  hard  knocks.'  I  never  appreciated  luxury 
or  money  of  my  father's  earning,  because  I 
never  knew  what  it  meant  in  thought  and  toil. 
I  have  found  many  of  the  working  women  su- 
perior to  myself  and  some  of  my  old  acquaint- 
ances, because  they  know  more,  are  more  useful 
and  more  self-sacrificing." 

"If  I  wasn't  so  afraid  of  being  insulted  or 
catching  something,  I  would  go  down  there  with 
you  and  see  some  of  them." 

"  You  would  not  be  insulted,  nor  catch  any- 
thing. I  hope  to  take  you  and  many  more 
'  down  there '  some  time,  to  be  helpful." 

After  a  time,  as  Leila  grew  better,  Deborah 
narrated  such  conversations  to  her,  a  little  at  a 
time,  to  divert  her  thoughts. 

"  I  had  hoped  to  do  something,"  said  Leila, 
"but  now  it  is  ended." 

"  Not  ended  perhaps,  but  to  be  begun,  and 
carried  on  far  better  than  ever,"  said  Deborah 
hopefully.  "  Take  courage  to  live,  and  God  will 
give  you  work.  Let  me  read  you  a  strong  sweet 
lesson  which  you  can  ponder  as  you  lie  here. 
'  Make  your  burdens  as  light  as  possible,  not  by 
ignoring  them,  but  by  putting  the  sunshine  of 
love  and  resignation  into  them.  Bear  them  in 
the  Spirit  of  Christ.  Carry  them  in  the  strength 
of  the  Lord.  See  in  them  a  gracious  purpose. 
Make  the  best  of  them.  Be  neither  soured  nor 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  221 

dwarfed  by  them,  but  rise  superior  to  them, 
manifesting  continually  that  they  are  your 
servants,  not  your  masters.  Whatever  their 
number  or  peculiarity,  so  bring  the  grace  of 
God  into  them  that  the  issue  shall  be  the  chas- 
tened temper,  the  bright  buoyant  soul,  the  mel-  ' 
lowed  character,  and  the  sweet  attractive  life.'  " 

"  What  did  you  mean  by  it,  Deborah  ?"  asked 
Leila,  several  hours  after.  "  I  have  kept  the 
ideas,  though  I  lost  the  words.  What  did  you 
mean  by  it  for  me  ?" 

"  Beloved,"  said  Deborah  tenderly,  "  I  meant 
that  you  should  desire  to  live,  and  be  a  co- 
worker  with  God  in  your  return  to  life,  willing 
now  to  grow  a  little  stronger  and  better  daily, 
and  by-and-by  willing  to  look  for  and  accept  the 
work  that  God  shall  give  for  head,  hands,  and 
purse,  even  if  the  feet  are  held  in  the  strong 
chains  of  weakness." 

Day  by  day,  week  by  week,  even  month  by 
month — such  was  the  slow  progress  of  Leila 
Stirling  towards  even  so  much  of  health  as 
would  bring  her  power  to  see  her  friends,  to 
talk  with  them,  to  be  propped  up  half  erect  upon 
her  couch,  to  think  and  will  and  decide  for  her- 
self. During  all  this  time  Deborah  stayed  with 
her,  hourly  at  her  side.  She  administered  the 
household  in  Leila's  place,  attended  to  her 
business,  received  her  friends,  was  the  link  be- 


222  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

tween  her  and  the  outer  world,  and,  once  more 
surrounded  by  luxury,  waited  on  by  servants, 
knowing  no  lack,  she  seemed  to  have  left  the 
portion  of  the  poor  toiler  and  returned  finally  to 
the  house  of  Dives.  But  in  her  heart  Deborah 
was  not  severed  from  the  comradeship  which  she 
had  chosen  in  the  ranks  of  working  women. 

Uncle  Josiah  and  Nurse  Agnes  came  to  see 
her,  and  she  went  to  see  them.  Sometimes  she 
went  in  Leila  Stirling's  carriage.  Then  great 
was  the  excitement  in  Romaine  Court  at  the 
elegant  barouche,  the  high-stepping  matched 
horses,  with  gold-mounted  harness,  and  the 
coachman  and  footman  in  livery,  while  "  their 
young  lady  "  was  seated  on  the  soft  cushions. 

"  I  knew  you  would  go  from  us,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Werner.  "  It  is  right ;  it  is  good.  You  belongs 
up  there.  Here  is  not  good  enough  for  you." 

"  It  is  good  enough  for  me,  and  I  am  coming 
back  as  soon  as  my  sick  friend  can  be  left,"  said 
Deborah  stoutly.  "I  belong  here,  and  I  shall 
live  here." 

On  these  occasions  Deborah  was  reckless; 
she  carried  oranges,  grapes,  bananas,  boxes  of 
candy,  and  distributed  them  to  the  disinherited 
children  around  Romaine  Court.  She  took,  as 
Leila's  bounty  to  the  Day  Nursery,  toys  and 
picture-books  and  hammocks.  She  took  a  soft- 
cushioned  chair  to  Bella's  little  lame  sister.  She 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  223 

explained  that  her  sick  friend  sent  the  gifts,  but 
all  the  same  the  people  believed  that  they  came 
from  her. 

"  You  care  for  us ;  you  know  us ;  your  friend 
does  not  know  us  and  does  not  care ;  one  must 
know  to  care." 

It  was  the  old  story.  He  who  came  to  save 
men  was  made  in  fashion  as  a  man.  One  must 
somehow  know  to  care.  How  should  Leila 
Stirling  learn  to  know  ? 

"She  is  learning,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "by 
the  discipline  of  her  sufferings.  She  is  set 
apart  from  her  former  life,  and  is  consecrated 
by  pain  to  ministry  to  those  who  mourn." 

"Is  it  worth  all  this?"  asked  Leila,  when 
Deborah  told  her.  Those  wakeful  nights,  those 
long  days  of  heart-ache,  were  so  hard. 

"Be  of  good  courage,"  said  Deborah  ;  " it  is 
worth  it  all.  It  will  seem  to  you  to  be  more  and 
more  worth  it  as  eternity  goes  on.  When  the 
harvest  is  gathered  we  shall  see  it  was  well 
worth  while  to  sow  seed  even  in  cold  or  heat,  in 
toil  and  rain." 

One  evening  Uncle  Josiah,  when  he  called, 
told  Deborah  that  some  of  her  working-girl 
friends  had  been  to  see  her,  and  had  been 
driven  away  by  Leila's  supercilious  servants, 
and  were  greatly  grieved  and  angered.  "  They 
were  fools,"  they  said,  "  to  believe  that  the  young 


224          MR-  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

lady  would  see  them,  or  let  poor  people  into  her 
fine  new  quarters."  This  hurt  Deborah  sharply. 

"  Make  them  understand  that  I  knew  nothing 
of  it,"  she  said,  "and  that  they  are  to  come  back, 
and  shall  surely  come  in.  If  they  are  not  ad- 
mitted I  will  not  stay  here." 

But  Leila  gave  positive  orders  that  all  who 
called  for  Miss  Grosvenor  were  to  be  admitted, 
taken  to  the  drawing-room,  and  treated  with 
courtesy.  Moved  probably  by  curiosity,  they 
came  again,  eight  of  them  together,  headed  by 
Jean  and  Bella,  soon  after  night-fall,  and  Deb- 
orah found  them  drawn  into  an  embarrassed 
group  in  the  splendors  of  the  electric-lighted 
drawing-room.  She  went  to  them  holding  out 
both  hands  in  simple  friendly  fashion. 

"  My  dear  girls !  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you ! 
You  must  spend  the  evening  with  me.  Come 
with  me  and  take  off  your  hats  and  capes." 

"  Mebbe  other  folks  are  coming,  and  we  '11  be 
in  your  way,"  said  Bella,  finding  Deborah  very 
impressive  in  her  trained  cashmere  tea-gown, 
with  all  these  gorgeous  things  about  her. 

"  No  one  is  coming,  and  I  am  ever  so  glad  to 
see  you  all,"  said  Deborah,  and  when  their  hats 
were  laid  by,  they  made  a  half-circle  around  the 
glowing  fire  in  the  large  grate  and  the  talk  be- 
gan about  the  work-room. 

"  How  do  you  get  on  ?" 


ON  THE  ALTAR  OF  SACRIFICE.  22$ 

"  We  want  you  back  !"  cried  Jean.  "  Nobody 
seems  to  have  the  care  for  us  that  you  do.  No 
one  manages  us  as  well  as  you  do.  You  are  not 
going  to  stay  away  for  ever,  are  you  ?" 

"  No  ;  just  as  soon  as  my  friend  is  able  to  be 
left,  I  shall  leave  her  and  go  back  to  you." 

"  It  is  awfully  good  of  you  to  come  to  us,  and 
share  our  work  and  our  ways,  if  you  do  n't  have 
to,  and  might  live  among  all  this  gorgeousness," 
said  Martha.  "  But  we  want  you  to  come.  No 
one  advises  us  as  you  do,  no  one  sees  just  when 
one  is  going  wrong,  and  stops  us  in  time,  as  you 
do.  No  one  thinks  of  the  wet  feet,  the  sore 
throats,  and  favors  the  weak  eyes  as  you  do." 

"  When  you  were  there  something  new  was 
invented  for  us  every  week  ;  nothing  is  invented 
now,  but  the  old  things  keep  up." 

"  It  is  good  that  things  keep  up,  and  by-and- 
by  we  will  have  something  new  invented  by  the 
joint  genius  of  us  all,"  said  Deborah. 

Then  after  all  was  talked  over,  and  the  ab- 
sent girls  asked  after,  Deborah  played  for  them 
on  the  grand  piano,  showed  them  the  portfolios 
of  engravings  and  told  them  the  meanings  of 
many  of  them,  took  them  into  the  little  conser- 
vatory and  cut  flowers  to  make  a  button-hole 
bouquet  for  each  girl,  and  then  had  refresh- 
ments of  jelly,  pickles,  sandwiches,  and  choco- 
late, served  in  the  dining-room.  She  had  no 

Mr.  Orosv«nor's  Daughter.        J£ 


226          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

hesitation  in  rifling  the  conservatory  or  in  order- 
ing refreshments;  she  was  giving  herself  to 
Leila  and  taking  away  herself  from  these  girls, 
and  it  was  but  right  that  Leila's  abundance 
should  give  them  some  measure  of  compensa- 
tion. It  was  ten  o'clock  before  they  reluctantly 
turned  towards  their  homes. 

"  Come  again,  and  bring  the  others,"  said 
Deborah.  "By-and-by  Miss  Stirling  will  be 
able  to  be  carried  here  to  the  sofa  and  see  you 
all.  She  is  as  much  interested  in  my  friends  as 
I  am." 

"  She  cannot  be  like  you"  said  Bella ;  "  you 
are  one  of  us ;  you  have  lived  and  worked  with 
us.  Yes,  we  will  come  again  ;  this  evening  has 
been  like  a  piece  of  heaven." 


YEARNING  FOR  THE  MASSES.  22/ 

CHAPTER  XV. 

YEARNING  FOR  THE  MASSES. 

"  And  knows  not  if  it  be  thunder,  or  a  sound 
Of  rocks  thrown  down,  or  one  deep  cry 
Of  great  wild  beasts ;  then  thinketh — '  I  have  found 
A  new  land,  but  I  die.' " 

"I  WANT  to  know  all  those  girls,"  said  Leila 
to  Deborah,  when  she  had  been  told  about  the 
company  that  had  been  entertained  at  her  house. 
"  Let  us  have  some  of  them  here  often,  once  a 
month  or  once  a  fortnight.  It  will  be  a  rest 
and  pleasure  to  them,  and  will  help  them  upward 
in  manners  and  health  and  higher  aims.  Then 
too,  Deborah,  you  know  my  house  in  the  coun- 
try ;  it  is  a  lovely  place,  and  after  this,  as  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  move  or  travel  very  far,  we  will 
stay  there  for  six  months  each  year,  going  the 
first  of  May,  and  we  will  invite  five  or  six  of 
these  working-girls,  or  women,  for  three  weeks 
at  a  time,  and  so  keep  up  the  succession  for  all 
the  time  we  are  there.  We  can  give  nearly  fifty 
a  nice  country  holiday  each  year.  Will  not  that 
be  delightful  ?" 

"  Very  delightful,  dear.   I  hope  you  will  do  it." 

"  Say  we  will  do  it,"  urged  Leila.     "  You  and 

I  will  always  be  partners,  like  twin  sisters,  only 


228  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

you  will  be  strong  and  wise  and  enterprising, 
while  I  am  weak,  and  follow  where  you  lead. 
Half  of  all  that  I  have  is  yours,  dear  Deborah  ; 
let  us  live  united." 

Still  the  shadow  remained  on  Deborah's  face. 
Lelia  was  not  yet  well  enough  to  be  left ;  but 
when  the  day  should  come  that  others  could  do 
for  her  what  Deborah  did,  Deborah  felt  that  then 
she  must  return  to  the  place  and  work  where  she 
believed  that  God  had  called  her.  Leila  detected 
this  hesitation. 

"  Speak,  Deborah,"  she  said,  with  the  hasti- 
ness of  the  invalid. 

"  I  will  be  with  you  for  a  time,  dear." 

"  For  always,"  insisted  Leila.  "  What  do  you 
mean  by  hesitating  ?  If  your  own  fortune  had 
been  left  you  still,  would  you  refuse  to  use  it,  and 
go  and  live  in  Romaine  Court  and  work  in  the 
factory?  Would  you?" 

"  I  should  never  have  known  the  need  there 
is  down  there." 

"  Well,  suppose  somehow  your  fortune  came 
back — your  own  :  would  you  refuse  it  ?  Would  n't 
you  use  it?" 

"  Yes ;  as  well  as  God  should  give  me  grace. 
But  if  it  were  in  me  still  to  be  a  selfish  idler,  I 
hope  God  would  keep  me  poor !  Leila,  under- 
stand me.  If  I  had  now,  with  the  views  I  now 
have,  my  own  former  fortune,  I  hope  I  should 


YEARNING  FOR  THE  MASSES.  22Q 

consider  myself  God's  trustee  for  it,  and  feel 
that  I  had  no  right  to  divest  myself  of  it,  be 
cause  he  had  appointed  me  to  use  it  for  Him.  I 
should  obey  him  in  holding  and  administering 
it,  as  I  now  try  to  obey  him  in  going  without  it. 
But  taking  half  of  your  fortune,  and  leaving  the 
ranks  into  which  God  ordered  me,  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent thing  from  using  what  he  put  into  my 
hands.  You  can  keep  all  your  property  and  use 
it  rightly  for  God  and  humanity.  I  can  give 
myself.  If  I  were  feeble  and  helpless,  and  could 
do  nothing  for  myself  or  others,  I  should  feel 
that  this  offer  of  yours  was  God's  way  of  caring 
for  me.  As  it  is,  I  only  regard  it  as  a  test  or 
trial  of  my  willingness  to  work  His  will  in  my 
new  sphere." 

"  But,  oh,  Deborah,  what  will  you  do,  what 
will /do?" 

"  For  me,  I  will,  after  you  are  a  little  stronger, 
go  back  to  my  girls  and  my  work.  I  will  come 
to  see  you  every  evening  or  nearly  every  even- 
ing, and  we  will  talk  over  all  that  comes  into  my 
experience,  and  we  will  plan  what  to  do,  and  by 
degrees  I  will  make  you  as  well  acquainted  with 
the  people  as  I  shall  be  :  and  then  what  splendid 
work  you  can  do !  These  evening  visits  and  the 
country  holidays  are  good,  very  good ;  but  to  the 
greater,  wider,  more  useful  work  which  we  shall 
build  up,  such  things  will  only  be  a  little  bind 


230  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ing  or  braid  to  the  whole  garment.  The  Ren- 
del  Brothers  are  trying  to  start  and  keep  up  a  bus- 
iness on  liberal,  helpful  principles.  They  will 
surely  bring  other  large  employers  to  fall  into 
line  with  them.  Who  knows  but  that  you, 
through  your  business  agent,  may  start  or  buy 
out  some  large  business,  and  conduct  it  also  on  lib- 
eral and  gospel  principles ;  and  so  the  work  will 
widen  and  commend  itself,  and  spread  in  our 
city,  and  become  known  in  other  cities,  and 
other  hearts  may  be  moved  to  serve  God  in  bless- 
ing his  poor  and  hold  property  as  for  Him. 
Who  knows  how  far  the  work  may  go  ?  The 
labor  of  working  women  may  be  revolutionized." 

"  Oh,  Deborah,  if  I  were  strong  and  well  to 
work  as  you  can,  I  should  have  something  of  this 
great  hope  that  you  have !  But,  just  as  I  was 
waking  up  to  bear  fruit  for  others,  this  strange 
blight  or  winter  has  fallen  over  my  life  and 
withered  me  away !" 

"  Aaron's  rod  blossomed  when  all  Israel 
thought  it  but  a  long-dead  stick.  The  trees  seem 
dead,  and  yet  awake  after  the  winter  full  of 
buds.  Remember  what  is  said : 

1  He  reached  the  glory  of  a  hand 
That  seemed  to  touch  it  into  leaf, 
The  voice  was  not  the  voice  of  grief, 
The  words  were  hard  to  understand.' 

So  God's  hand  can  touch  you   and   make  this 


YEARNING  FOR  THE   MASSES.  231 

shut-in  waiting  life  your  richest  life.  '  More  are 
the  children  of  the  desolate' — remember  that." 

"  Yes,  I  do,  and  at  times  I  feel  resigned. 
Then  again  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  endure  my 
lot.  I  question  why  I  was  not  left  as  I  was  be- 
fore ;  why  I  did  not  die  outright,  rather  than  be 
left  half  alive  in  this  way." 

"  My  dear,  your  heart  and  head  are  not  half, 
but  all  alive.  Live  in  them.  They  are  the  real 
potencies.  Christ  can  work  in  you  that  absolute 
submission  which  he  had  to  the  Father's  will. 

'  Thou  seemest  human  and  divine, 
The  highest,  holiest  manhood  thou ; 
Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how — 
Our  wills  are  ours  to  make  them  thine.' " 

"  While  you  are  here  to  help  me  I  remember 
all  this,  and  it  is  easy  ;  when  you  are  gone  what 
shall  I  do  ?  Deborah !  it  seems  as  if  one  as 
afflicted  and  helpless  as  I  am  had  the  first  best 
claim  on  you.  Is  it  right  to  leave  me  ?" 

"  Yes.  You  have  money,  that  potent  conju- 
ring-rod  of  the  nineteenth  century.  That  can 
command  for  you  all  comfort  that  science  can 
bring  to  your  state,  all  the  service  and  help 
that  civilization  can  afford.  There  are  women 
who  are  hounded  on  to  heavy,  bitter  work  by 
poverty,  who  work  with  failing  eyes  and  labor- 
ing chests  and  aching,  distorted  spines ;  who 
work  and  suffer  till  they  can  toil  no  more,  and 


232          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

drop  into  the  almshouse,  a  hospital,  or  the  pot- 
ter's-field. Your  money,  Leila,  can  bring  you 
some  one  to  take  all  of  my  place  that  shall  be 
vacant.  You  can  find  some  gentle,  loving, 
gracious,  skilful  woman,  who  will  be  companion 
and  friend  to  you,  while  I  shall  be  your  helper 
and  agent  in  work.  There  are  no  doubt  to  be 
found  ministers'  widows  or  daughters,  or  girls 
suddenly  impoverished  as  I  was,  who  need  you, 
and  whom  you  will  find  just  what  you  need.  In 
securing  such  a  one  you  open  one  more  avenue 
in  life  for  some  self-supporting  woman.  You 
will  get  a  new  friend,  will  widen  out  your  sym- 
pathies just  that  much,  while  I  am  doing  the 
other  work  that  I  am  perfectly  well  able  to  do. 
I  wish  you  knew  how  many  working-girls  there 
are  who  work  with  not  half  the  help  or  the 
physical  ability  that  I  have,  while  they  are  borne 
down  with  the  sufferings  and  cares  of  sick  pa- 
rents or  feeble  little  children,  and  I  am  grieved 
for  no  one  near  in  kindred.  Strange,  is  it  not, 
Leila,  that  there  are  lives  so  hard  that  it  is  bet- 
ter to  be  deprived  of  sweetest  ties  rather  than 
to  see  dear  ones  share  our  pain  ?" 

Deborah  had  a  fancy  for  standing  behind  the 
curtains  and  watching  the  streets  when  the 
lamps  were  first  lighted.  For  two  or  three  even- 
ings she  had  seen  the  same  form  of  a  nearly 
grown  lad  loitering  near  Miss  Stirling's  home, 


YEARNING  FOR  THE   MASSES.  233 

going  and  coming,  and  looking  towards  the  win- 
dows. Suddenly  something  struck  her  as  famil- 
iar in  the  gait  and  the  shape  of  the  shoulders. 
Running  down  stairs  and  out  upon  the  steps,  she 
called, 

"Oliver!   Oliver!  is  that  you?" 

"Yes,  miss,"  said  Oliver  coming  up,  half 
pleased  and  half  abashed. 

"  Well,  why  did  n't  you  ring  and  come  in  ? 
I  'm  sure  you  want  to  see  me." 

"  Yes,  miss  ;  but  I  dare  n't  take  the  liberty." 

"  However,  I  want  to  see  you,  so  come  in. 
Here,  hang  up  your  hat  on  this  rack.  Did  you 
rub  your  feet  on  the  mat  ?  That  is  a  good  fellow ; 
now  come  in  and  tell  me  how  you  have  been 
getting  on." 

Oliver  looked  uneasily  about  the  drawing- 
room  and  at  the  plush-cushioned  chair  to  which 
he  was  pointed.  "  It 's  too  good  for  me,  miss," 
he  said,  casting  a  glance  at  his  clothes. 

"  Nothing  is  too  good  for  a  man  who  is  trying 
to  behave  himself.  Do  n't  you  think  when  you 
get  to  heaven,  Oliver,  things  will  be  finer  than 
in  this  room  ?" 

"  Ay,  miss ;  but  I  '11  be  changed  over  and 
made  fit." 

"  You  '11  have  left  these  working-clothes  be- 
hind you  certainly,"  said  Deborah,  smiling,  "  but 
now  the  change,  the  fitting  you  for  heaven,  is  go- 


234          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ing  on,  and  I  want  you  to  remember,  Oliver,  that 
an  honest  working-man,  who  fears  God  and 
keeps  his  life  clean,  is  good  enough  to  go  frank- 
ly and  simply  anywhere  that  it  comes  into  his 
way  to  go." 

"  Thank  you,  miss,"  said  Oliver,  straighten- 
ing himself. 

"  Have  n't  you  been  about  here  two  or  three 
evenings?" 

"  Five  or  six,"  said  Oliver ;  "  our  night-school 
teacher  is  sick  and  we  have  the  week ;  and  I 
thought  maybe  I  'd  get  a  look  at  you,  and  it 
would  do  me  good,  and  brace  me  up  to  keep  out 
of  mischief." 

"  Oliver,  where  have  you  to  go  evenings 
when  there  is  no  school  and  it  is  not  warm 
weather  fit  for  our  house-top  ?" 

"  Nowhere,  miss,  except  at  our  home ;  and 
mother  and  aunt  and  the  little  ones  are  there, 
and  a  lot  of  neighbor  women,  with  each  one  a 
baby  maybe  ;  and  I  'm  in  the  way,  like,  and  it  is 
dull  and  crowded.  Sometimes  I  drop  in  to  see 
Jean  and  the  girls  with  her,  but  they  have  their 
own  talk  going  on,  and  I  'm  only  a  boy.  I  prom- 
ised you  I  'd  keep  out  of  saloons,  and  if  I  stand 
about  the  street  corners  I  'm  kind  of  sick  of  the 
talk  and  stories  the  men  have  there.  Since  you 
taught  me  a  bit  I  don't  like  such  ways." 

"  Do  you  like  to  read?" 


YEARNING  FOR  THE  MASSES.  235 

"  I  'm  getting  to  like  it.  But  I  have  n't 
books,  and  I  do  n't  know  what  to  pick  up.  My 
teacher  says  not  to  touch  the  bad  ones." 

"  Wait  here  a  minute,"  said  Deborah,  her  face 
shining  with  a  happy  thought.  She  went  up 
stairs  and  after  a  few  moments  came  down. 

"  Here,  Oliver,  Miss  Stirling  says  to  take  this 
envelope  to  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Associa- 
tion to-morrow,  and  it  will  make  you  a  member, 
and  give  you  the  freedom  of  the  reading-room, 
the  gymnasium,  lectures,  all  the  good  things 
they  have  there !  Now  you  '11  have  a  place  for 
evenings !  Practise  in  the  gymnasium ;  it  will 
straighten  you  and  give  you  better  health. 
Oliver,  how  would  you  like  to  own  a  home  like 
this  some  day  ?" 

"  There 's  most  too  much  in  it,"  said  Oliver 
cautiously. 

Deborah  looked  about.  "  I  believe  it  is  over- 
crowded with  small  articles  of  useless  luxury. 
But  after  all,  Oliver,  people  earn  a  living  by 
making  and  selling  those  things.  You  would 
like  to  own  a  home  full  of  comforts,  where  you 
could  be  happy  and  make  other  people  happy?" 

The  time  had  come  to  arouse  ambition  in 
this  boy — to  give  him  an  object  in  life.  His 
glowing  face  responded  to  the  conjuration. 
"  Indeed  I  would,  miss !" 

"Work  hard,  then,  with  an  end  in  view," 


236          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

said  Deborah.  "  Ask  God  to  to  be  your  helper 
in  all  that  you  do,  and  who  knows  how  high  and 
noble  a  place  you  may  gain  !" 

As  daily  Deborah  was  thinking  of  returning 
to  the  factory  work,  daily  the  need  of  the  girls 
pressed  upon  her  heart,  and  finally  she  said  to 
Leila  one  evening,  "To-morrow  I  am  going 
back,  for  the  day,  to  my  room  at  the  shirt  fac- 
tory, to  see  if  I  am  needed  there  as  much  as  I 
fancy  that  I  am.  I  have  promised  the  firm  to 
go  back." 

"  I  hope  you  '11  find  that  they  are  better  off 
without  you  than  with  you,"  said  Leila ;  "  then 
you  will  be  ready  to  stay  with  me." 

"  People  sometimes  greatly  overestimate  their 
importance,  and  perhaps  I  do  mine,"  said  Debo- 
rah, laughing. 

So  next  morning,  while  most  of  the  Stirling 
household  slept,  Deborah  rose,  put  on  her  work- 
ing dress,  which  she  had  worn  when  she  took 
that  night  ride  to  Leila's  home,  ate  her  break- 
fast alone  in  the  butler's  pantry,  and  at  seven 
o'clock  appeared  in  the  shirt-finishing  room. 
All  was  at  once  uproar.  The  girls  scorned 
work  hours,  and  crowded  about  her,  anxious 
to  touch  her,  to  speak  to  her,  to  look  into  her 
smiling  eyes,  and  to  hear  the  full,  cheery  tones 
of  her  voice.  She  brought  new  life  into  the 
finishing-room. 


YEARNING  FOR  THE  MASSES.  237 

"  Look  here,  girls  !"  cried  Deborah,  rapping 
on  the  table  with  a  yard-stick ;  "  this  will  never 
do !  Who  is  robbing  the  firm  now  ?  I  am  still 
forewoman  of  this  room !  Get  to  work,  every 
one  of  you !  Nora  Lacy,  are  your  eyes  better, 
that  you  sit  in  that  dark  corner  ?  Move  out  here 
into  the  light.  Mary  Reed,  your  shoes  are  sop- 
ping wet.  Take  them  off  and  put  them  near 
the  heater,  and  go  and  rub  your  feet  well  in  the 
dressing-room.  I  believe  I  will  order  twenty 
pairs  of  slippers  for  the  use  of  you  girls  that 
come  here  with  soaking  feet." 

"  In  that  case  none  of  them  will  be  careful, 
and  all  will  come  wet,"  remarked  Mrs.  Brand. 

The  work  went  on,  but  Deborah  noticed  that 
the  girls  were  dull,  and  some  trouble  seemed 
brooding  among  them.  "  What  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  You  have  something  on  your  minds. 
Speak  out,"  cried  Deborah  after  a  while. 

The  girls  looked  embarrassed.  Some  opened 
their  lips  to  speak,  changed  their  minds  and 
were  silent — the  machines  hummed  on.  Mrs. 
Brand  was  doing  hand-work.  She  turned  to 
Deborah.  "  Miss  Grosvenor,  it 's  the  striking 
agents.  The  shirt-makers  are  all  talking  of  a 
strike.  They  say  penitentiary  competition  puts 
labor  wages  too  low,  and  there  's  a  movement  for 
a  strike,  and  the  promoters  of  the  strike  are  about 
among  our  girls.  Do  n't  they  know  that  women 


238          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

can't  strike  ?  The  men  are  organized,  and  have 
funds  ready  to  help  those  that  hold  out ;  and  the 
men  have  tougher  hearts,  and  will  hold  out  in 
the  face  of  the  starving  wives  and  the  crying 
children.  Women  a'  n't  made  like  that ;  they 
can't  see  the  old  parents  getting  lean  and  faint 
with  hunger,  or  the  babies  wailing  for  bread. 
They  are  not  the  fighting  kind  mostly,  and  they 
take  what  they  can  get.  They  may  fret  a  bit, 
and  cry,  when  they  have  time  to  cry,  but  they 
put  up  with  things  for  the  sake  of  others,  as 
men  do  n't  do.  It  is  no  use,  Miss  Grosvenor,  for 
'em  to  try  striking;  they  a* n't  organized,  and 
they  '11  be  starved  back  to  even  lower  wages  and 
harder  work." 

"But  see  here,"  said  Deborah,  "are  not 
Rendel  Brothers  doing  the  very  best  that  they 
can  for  you  all,  in  every  way  ?  Do  they  not  give 
you  comforts  that  no  other  firm  affords,  and 
wages  above  the  average?  Now  why  incom- 
mode them  with  a  strike  just  because  the  em- 
ploye's of  other  firms  strike?  That  is  a  poor 
reward  of  merit  in  employers.  At  that  rate  it 
will  not  pay  to  do  well  by  you." 

"  You  see  they  claim  that  Rendel  Brothers 
could  give  higher  yet,  if  the  strike  forced  the 
other  shirt-makers  to  pay  better,  and  pushed  out 
the  penitentiary  competition." 

"Are  not   the  women   in  the  penitentiary 


YEARNING  FOR  THE   MASSES.  239 

badly  enough  off,  without  your  trying  to  de- 
prive them  of  labor?  Imprisonment  with 
nothing  to  do  would  be  twice  as  long  and 
hard  as  with  time  occupied.  Why  begrudge 
them  the  chance  to  learn  an  honest  trade,  so 
that  when  they  come  out  of  prison  they  can 
support  themselves  ?  Why  wish  to  take  away  a 
clean,  easy  trade,  and  drive  them  only  into  the 
roughest  and  hardest  ?  Finally,  if  they  are  not 
allowed  to  make  shirts,  what  can  they  make? 
Any  trade  might  be  open  to  the  same  objection. 
Come,  be  generous,  be  womanly,  liberal  to  lib- 
eral employers  and  to  sister- women.  Many  of 
you  say  your  lot  is  hard,  wages  low,  toil  long, 
because  richer  women  do  not  sympathize  with 
you,  help  you,  think  for  you,  and  because  they 
want  their  made  goods  at  the  very  lowest  fig- 
ures, leaving  no  room  for  fair  pay  for  your  work. 
Now  if  these  richer  women  do  bear  hard  on  you, 
why  do  you  bear  hard  on  the  unfortunate  women 
in  the  penitentiary  ?" 

"  You  see  there  are  some  folks  whom  noth- 
ing pleases,"  cried  Martha,  "  because  they  do  n  't 
want  to  be  pleased,  and  they  are  not  even 
pleased  with  being  displeased.  You  find  pres- 
ent working  arrangements  very  unsatisfactory. 
So  they  are,  very.  But  you'd  find  the  strike 
equally  unsatisfactory,  and  work,  when  you 
returned  to  it,  more  unsatisfactory  still ;  while 


240  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

as  far  as  all  of  us  in  this  house  are  concerned, 
I  do  think  we  owe  Rendel  Brothers  some  loy- 
alty in  return  for  their  liberal  and  sympathetic 
treatment  of  us." 

"  So  we  do !"  cried  one  of  the  girls,  "  and  for 
my  part  I  am  glad  to  have  strike  worry  off  my 
mind." 

"  Now,  see  here,"  said  Deborah ;  "  you 
spread  it  through  the  building,  and  among 
other  working-girls,  as  many  as  can  get  in  our 
biggest  room,  that  beginning  with  next  Mon- 
day evening  we  are  to  have  a  course  of — well, 
something  between  talks  and  entertainments 
here,  Monday  and  Friday  evenings.  I  shall 
give  the  first  one,  perhaps  all  of  them,  and  they 
will  be  about  how  women  in  other  parts  of  the 
world  live.  I  shall  begin  with  China;  and  I 
shall  have  Nell  Ball,  who  is  little  and  dark,  and 
somewhat  Chinese-looking,  dressed  up  as  a  Chi- 
nese poor  woman,  and  Betty  Mills  dressed  up  as 
a  Chinese  lady ;  and  I  shall  have  some  Chinese 
women's  work  here,  and  the  stage  dressed  up  with 
fans  and  parasols,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  Chinese 
women  eat,  dress,  sleep,  work,  marry,  and  die. 
I  will  show  you  what  they  use  for  knives  and 
forks,  and  how  they  tie  up  their  feet,  and  show 
you  pictures  of  their  homes  and  their  babies. 
After  we  do  up  China,  one  evening,  we  will  try 
India,  then  Siam,  Africa,  Turkey,  Persia,  and  so 


Air.  Grosvenor's  Daugtiter.    Page  241. 


YEARNING  FOR  THE   MASSES.  241 

on.  I  think,  on  the  whole,  when  we  find  out 
how  much  worse  off  other  women  are,  we  shall 
be  more  contented  with  our  own  fate." 

After  work  hours  Deborah  went  home  to 
tea  with  Nurse  Agnes  and  Uncle  Josiah.  "  It 
is  well  you  are  come,"  said  Uncle  Josiah  ;  "  old 
Mrs.  Jensen  is  sick  ;  she  is  failing  fast,  and  she 
is  anxious  to  see  you.  She  wants  you  to  sing 
for  her.  I  meant  to  go  for  you  this  evening." 

Away,  then,  after  tea,  went  Deborah  to  Mrs. 
Jensen's  attic.  The  old  dame  lay  peacefully  in 
her  clean,  white  bed:  her  room  was  neat  and 
cheerful,  her  young  attendant  waited  upon  her 
as  a  daughter.  Deborah  sat  by  her  and  sang 
"  My  ain  countree."  How  eager  were  the  faded 
old  eyes,  long  lighted  by  the  fires  of  sin,  but 
now  full  of  love  and  waiting  grace.  The  with- 
ered old  hand  kept  time  to  the  words 

"  I  Ve  his  gude  word  of  promise  that  some  gladsome  day  the 

King 

To  his  ain  royal  palace  his  banished  hame  will  bring ; 
Wi'  e'en  an'  wi'  hearts  running  owre  we  shall  see 
The  King  in  his  beauty  in  our  ain  countree. 

"  My  sins  hae  been  mony,  and  my  sorrows  hae  been  sair, 
But  there  they  '11  never  vex  me,  nor  be  remembered  mair ; 
His  bluid  hath  made  me  white,  His  han'  shall  dry  my  e'e, 
When  He  brings  me  hame  at  last  to  my  ain  countree." 

"  Yes,  miss,"  said  the  old  woman,  when  Deb- 
orah's song  had  ended,  "  it  is  only  Christ  that 

Mr.  GrOBvenor'e  Daughter.  1 6 


242          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

could  do  that  for  me — make  me  white  and  clean. 
Oh,  if  you  knew  how  wicked  I  have  been !" 

"  Thy  sins  shall  be  remembered  no  more  for 
ever,"  said  Deborah.  "  In  Christ  there  is  such 
complete  forgiveness  that  our  sins  are  not  only 
forgiven,  but  forgotten.  The  sin  of  his  people 
is  the  one  thing  that  God  can  forget." 

And  so,  after  a  busy  day,  back  went  Debo- 
rah to  Leila.  "  Were  you  really  needed  down 
there  ?"  asked  Leila. 

"So  much  needed  that  I  hardly  dared  to 
come  back ;  I  felt  as  if  I  were  forsaking  God's 
errands.  I  stopped  a  strike,  and  devised  some- 
thing new  for  the  girls,  and  comforted  a  soul  in 
the  Border  Land.  How  mean  all  that  sounds — 
as  if  no  one  else  could  or  would  do  what  I  did  ! 
But  the  errands  were  the  ones  God  gave  to  me, 
and  as  he  sent  no  other  about  them,  if  I  had  not 
done  them  they  might  have  lain  undone." 

"What  new  thing  did  you  devise?"  asked 
Leila. 

"  It  came  to  me  like  an  inspiration.  It  is 
something  you  can  help  me  in.  I  remembered 
your  Chinese  pictures  and  curiosities ;  and  the 
ladies  of  the  Third  Church  have  Chinese  cos- 
tumes to  rent,  and  I  knew,  Leila,  you  would 
provide  Chinese  lanterns,  fans,  parasols,  nap- 
kins, and  such  little  things,  so  that  each  girl 
could  have  a  memento  to  take  home,  to  brighten 


YEARNING  FOR  THE  MASSES.  243 

up  her  own  place  and  keep  the  talk  in  her 
mind."  And  then  Deborah  told  her  about  the 
course  of  talks  on 

"  HOW   OTHER  WOMEN  LIVE." 

"  How  grand  you  are  since  you  became  poor, 
Deborah !"  cried  Leila.  "  Never  be  rich  any 
more,  unless  you  can  stay  poor  in  spirit." 

"  Amen  to  that,"  said  Deborah. 


244         MR-  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 
CHAPTER    XVI. 

TRUE  YOKE-FELLOWS. 

"  Which  did  accomplish  their  desire, 
Bore  and  forebore,  and  did  not  tire — 
Like  Stephen,  an  unquenche"d  fire." 

ONE  of  the  wonderful  traits  of  humanity  is 
the  readiness  with  which  it  adjusts  itself  to  the 
inevitable.  An  onlooker  from,  let  us  say,  some 
distant  star,  inhabited  by  happy  immortals, 
might  conclude  that  a  race  standing  always 
but  one  remove  from  sickness,  death,  and  all 
forms  of  sorrow  would  be  ever  despairingly 
bewailing  its  losses.  But  how  seldom  do  we 
hear  a  protest  lifted  against  these  our  preca- 
rious conditions  !  The  bridegroom  receives  his 
bride,  and  is  joyful,  although  at  the  very  altar 
the  words  "  till  death  do  us  part "  sound  the 
knell  of  a  long  hope ;  the  mother  clasps  her 
babe,  and  her  smile  is  unshadowed  by  the 
thought  of  the  thousands  of  little  coffins  that 
are  yearly  carried  across  the  thresholds.  When 
the  sorrow  comes,  the  shadow  falls,  the  buoy- 
ancy of  the  human  race  rises  up  to  readjust 
environment,  and  time  itself  brings  balm  to 
pain. 


TRUE  YOKE-FELLOWS.  245 

When  Leila  Stirling  learned  that  her  strong 
helpful  friend  must  leave  her,  she  felt  at  first  as 
if  she  could  not  endure  the  thought ;  but,  pres- 
ently growing  accustomed  to  it,  she  took  the 
deepest  interest  in  planning  for  Deborah's  work 
on  her  return  to  "the  masses." 

When  Deborah  had  found  for  Leila  a  com- 
panion who  could  read  to  her,  write  for  her 
when  her  own  easily  tired  hands  found  their 
task  too  great,  be  with  her  in  her  waking 
hours  and  not  very  far  off  when  she  slept, 
then  she  made  ready  to  return  to  Romaine 
Court.  Leila's  maid  had  been  the  attendant 
of  years,  her  housekeeper  had  been  trusted  by 
her  mother.  "  No  one  could  be  better  situated 
to  administer  life  from  a  couch  than  you  are," 
said  Deborah.  "  Now  I  will  superintend  your 
removal  to  the  country,  help  you  receive  your 
first  six  guests,  stay  a  week,  and  then  will  leave 
you  to  manage  for  yourself.  I  will  come  up 
Saturday  evenings  and  stay  until  Monday  morn- 
ings, for  a  few  weeks,  not  only  to  see  you,  but 
to  look  after  your  guests.  It  would  be  only  in 
human  nature  that  you  should  find  some  of 
them  intolerable  and  encroaching.  Very  likely 
there  are  some  of  the  girls  who  would  prefer 
hanging  over  the  back  gate  and  talking  with 
your  men  servants  to  any  amount  of  amuse- 
ment you  could  afford  to  them  in  your  library 


246          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

or  garden.  In  view  of  such  developments  of 
human  nature,  we  will  ask  the  girls  for  no 
fixed  time,  and  if  one  of  them  chances  to  be 
an  unendurable  guest,  we  can  quietly  give  her 
a  return  ticket.  Still  I  think  all  will  go  well, 
for  I  shall  only  suggest  to  you  girls  whom  I 
know  pretty  thoroughly,  and  who  are  nice  and 
respectable.  Some  day  you  and  I  may  arrange 
a  country  or  sea-side  place,  better  suited  than 
your  house  to  the  rougher  sort.  The  mere  fact 
of  poverty  does  not  make  one  a  saint,  and  I 
have  known  plenty  of  women  lately  who  could 
turn  the  pleasantest  home  you  could  give  them 
into  Pandemonium." 

"  Well,  we  must  not  expect  too  much,"  said 
Leila ;  "all  will  not  go  with  perfect  smoothness ; 
we  must  take  folks  as  we  find  them.  Story 
books  are  given  to  painting  all  prote'ge's  as 
angels,  but  I  do  n't  see  how  very  many  angels 
could  be  produced,  in  such  circumstances  as  you 
picture  to  me,  in  the  homes  of  our  poor.  It  is 
homes  that  we  want,  Deborah.  Oh  if  we  could 
regenerate  the  homes,  we  should  strike  at  the 
root  of  these  troubles !  When  you  tell  me  how 
the  children  and  girls  of  the  poor  live,  and  I 
contrast  it  with  the  way  I  was  brought  up  and 
taught  and  cared  for,  I  feel  such  a  pity  that  I 
am  nearly  heart-broken." 

"  If  we  would  remodel  the  homes,  we  must 


TRUE  YOKE-FELLOWS.  247 

produce  good  mothers  to  administer  them ;  and 
when  from  childhood  women  are  brought  up 
without  education,  in  crowded  rooms  which  pre- 
clude decency  or  cleanliness;  when  they  must 
be  all  the  time  at  hard  work,  and  have  almost 
none  of  the  appliances  of  home  comfort ;  when 
mothers  must  leave  their  children  to  the  streets, 
or  to  the  care  of  other  children,  for  ten  hours 
in  the  day,  how  can  we  expect  to  create  good 
mothers  ?  They  are  wonderfully  good  for  their 
opportunities." 

"  Dear  me,  I  wish  we  could  gather  up  all  the 
little  children !" 

"  Then  half  the  world  would  be  a  big  orphan- 
age ;  and  the  family,  not  the  orphanage,  is  the 
divine  ideal." 

Deborah  was  at  last  back  in  Romaine  Court, 
taking  up  life  as  it  was  when  she  left  it.  Uncle 
Josiah  watched  her  closely  to  see  if  she  had  re- 
grets, longings  for  the  luxury  she  had  left ;  but 
the  old  selfish  Deborah  had  passed  away ;  not 
regrets,  but  a  high  purpose  to  do  what  good  she 
could,  filled  Deborah's  mind. 

"Who'd  ha'  thought  it!"  cried  Romaine 
Court.  "  Our  young  lady  has  been  riding  in  her 
coach  and  living  like  lords,  and  here  she  comes 
back  to  us  just  as  easy !" 

"  When  you  see  and  admire  that,"  said  Uncle 
Josiah,  "  think  of  the  example  she  is  following. 


248          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Our  Lord  left  the  throne  of  the  universe,  the 
glory  of  heaven,  the  sinless  company  of  the 
angels,  and  came  to  live  on  earth,  poor,  home- 
less, weary,  persecuted,  crucified.  Foxes  had 
holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  had  nests,  but  the 
Son  of  Man  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head." 

Thus  Deborah,  as  an  object  lesson,  brought 
home  to  some  hearts  the  condescension  and  love 
of  Christ  as  otherwise  they  would  never  have 
seen  it.  Happy  is  that  Christian  who  is  able  in 
any  way  to  serve  as  an  object  lesson  of  the  work 
of  his  blessed  Lord ! 

One  Saturday  evening  the  happy,  courageous 
face  of  Deborah  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
little  boudoir  where  Leila  Stirling  lay  on  her 
couch.  The  windows  were  open  to  the  soft  air, 
and  the  lace  curtains  drifted  to  and  fro,  while 
through  them  glowed  the  clusters  of  the  roses 
that  climbed  over  the  porch.  At  the  foot  of 
Leila's  couch  sat  one  of  her  guests,  a  button- 
hole maker,  not  making  button-holes  now,  but 
reading  aloud  from  Jean  Ingelow's  poems,  while 
Miss  Lacy,  Leila's  companion,  played  a  game  of 
croquet  on  the  lawn  with  three  others  of  the 
guests ;  and  in  a  grassy  enclosure,  seen  through 
the  trees,  the  remaining  two  guests  were  taking 
riding  lessons,  one  riding,  the  other  leading,  or 
criticising,  a  meek  old  family  horse,  that  at 
twenty  years  of  age  had  retired  upon  a  com- 


TRUE   YOKE-FELLOWS.  249 

petence  to  close  his  days  in  peace  in  the  Stir- 
ling pastures.  It  was  a  scene  of  good  cheer 
which  filled  Deborah  with  a  thankful  joy. 

How  the  pale  thin  face  of  the  little  button- 
hole maker  had  taken  roundness  and  color! 
With  what  strength  and  courage  could  she  pick 
up  that  crutch  lying  at  her  feet  and  go  forth 
into  the  world  again  ! 

"  Why  are  there  so  many  more  crippled  and 
deformed  among  these  girls  than  in  our  class?" 
Leila  had  asked  Deborah,  and  Deborah  had  an- 
swered, "  I  always  wonder  how  there  are  so 
many  healthy,  well-made,  handsome  ones  among 
those  whose  infancy  passes  in  so  much  neglect, 
among  so  many  perils.  Our  girls  are  shielded 
from  all  dangers,  nursed,  cared  for ;  these  others 
must  live  by  day  on  the  curbstones,  and  crawl 
up  and  down  stairs,  while  their  mothers  toil 
with  scrubbing-brush  or  at  the  wash-tub  or  are 
absent  all  day  in  a  rag-picking  establishment  or 
umbrella-factory  or  type-foundry  or  some  other 
busy  place." 

"  How  horrible  that  '  rag-picking  establish- 
ment '  sounds !"  said  Leila ;  "  what  disease  and 
dirt  must  infest  those  rags  !" 

"  How  many  occupations  are  there  for  wo- 
men ?"  she  asked  presently. 

"  Uncle  Josiah  and  I  counted  three  hundred 
the  other  night ;  but  that  is  not  nearly  all ;  and 


250          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

those  were  occupations  of  hands.  There  are 
occupations  requiring  head-work,  such  as  sten- 
ography, typewriting,  book-keeping,  teaching, 
and  kindred  employments." 

On  this  evening,  when  Deborah,  fresh  from 
the  city,  found  Leila's  household  so  happily 
engaged,  she  went  and  knelt  down  by  the 
couch  and  took  her  friend's  hand.  "  I  know 
you  have  waited  supper  for  me." 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  and  I  know  you  are  hungry 
after  your  trip." 

"  But  before  supper  let  me  show  you  a  pres- 
ent I  have  brought  you." 

She  stepped  into  the  hall  and  came  back 
with  a  large  basket,  lightly  covered.  She  placed 
it  near  Leila's  couch,  removed  the  covering,  and 
there  lay  a  little  black-haired,  red-faced  baby, 
contentedly  sucking  its  thumb  ! 

"  Why,  Deborah !" 

"  The  baby  is  three  weeks  old,"  said  Debo- 
rah ;  "  a  girl,  named  Linda,  after  a  good  little 
mother  who  has  died  at  her  post.  Her  hus- 
band, this  baby's  father,  worked  in  a  com- 
pressed-yeast factory,  and  was  killed  by  an 
accident  in  the  elevator.  The  baby's  mother 
worked  on  children's  calico  dresses.  What  did 
she  get?  Fifty  cents  a  dozen.  She  could  not 
make  a  dozen  a  day.  She  had  a  child  two  years 
old ;  for  it  and  herself  she  worked  until  a  week 


TRUE  YOKE-FELLOWS.  251 

before  this  little  one  was  born,  when  the  other 
child  died  of  measles.  There  was  no  room  for 
the  poor  woman  in  the  Maternity  Hospital. 
After  this  baby  was  born  the  mother  had  no 
proper  care,  and  began  work  too  soon.  She 
died.  There  are  martyrs  in  the  nineteenth 
century.  Uncle  Josiah  found  her,  a  few  days 
before  she  died,  and  promised  her  that  the 
baby  should  be  cared  for.  The  parents  were 
decent,  good  people.  Will  you  have  her?  It 
seemed  to  me  just  what  your  home  needed,  a 
little  child  to  grow  up  in  it !  You  will  enjoy 
seeing  her  learn  to  walk,  to  talk ;  you  will  be 
happier  in  sharing  her  baby  plays  and  admiring 
her  cunning  baby  tricks.  Will  you  have  her, 
Leila?  If  not,  I  can  take  her  back." 

"  Put  her  beside  me,"  said  Leila  eagerly. 
"  Let  me  see  her  little  hands  and  feet.  What 
color  are  her  eyes?  I  hope  her  hair  will  stay 
curly!  Yes,  I  will  keep  her;  but,  Deborah, 
who  will  take  care  of  her  ?  I  '11  need  a  nurse 
for  her.  None  of  us  know  about  babies  here." 

"  I  brought  along  a  nurse,  a  nice  girl  who  has 
been  trained  two  years  in  the  Day  Nursery. 
They  let  me  have  her,  and  took  a  new  maid 
there.  Shall  I  call  her  in?  Come,  Mattie." 

Mattie  came  in,  a  broad  smile  on  her  face. 
What  joy  and  glory  to  be  nurse-maid  here  in 
this  beautiful  home !  What  a  lawn,  what  a  gar- 


252  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

den!  Why,  there  was  a  fountain,  and  also  a 
pond  where  a  pair  of  swans  floated  slowly ! 
Mattie  felt  that  she  had  reached  a  great  pro- 
motion. 

"  Now,"  said  Deborah  to  Leila,  "  you  can  en- 
joy yourself  thinking  what  room  you  will  take 
for  the  nursery ;  and  then  you  can  get  the  cata- 
logues from  the  furniture  stores  and  pick  out  a 
crib  and  a  baby  carriage ;  and  then  you  can  se- 
lect a  baby's  outfit ;  and  you  must  subscribe  for 
some  magazine  that  will  instruct  you  in  baby 
nursing,  and  read  it,  and  make  Mattie  read  it,  so 
that  this  little  maid  shall  be  brought  up  in  the 
most  approved  methods.  Why,  you  will  feel 
like  the  mother  of  a  family  at  once,  Leila !" 

Leila  laughed — a  clear,  happy  laugh — and 
hugged  the  baby  to  her  bosom.  "  I  '11  teach  her 
to  call  me  mamma  ?" 

"  Why  not  ?"  said  Deborah  ;  "  the  true  mother 
is  the  one  who  rears  the  child  with  maternal 
care.  But,  Leila,  don't  let  her  grow  up  ignorant 
of  the  poor  faithful  little  mother  that  she  was 
named  after.  I  saw  her  in  her  coffin,  and  in  my 
heart  I  promised  her  the  love  of  her  child." 

When  the  August  guests  were  dismissed 
Deborah  said,  "  I  have  a  terrible  proposal  to 
make  to  you,  Leila.  I  want  you  to  take  an  old 
lady.  That  is  not  such  a  bad  proposition,  for 
she  is  a  nice,  neat,  amiable  old  creature,  and  I 


TRUE  YOKE-FELLOWS.  253 

know  you  will  enjoy  talking  with  her  and  hear- 
ing her  experiences.  She  will  be  your  house 
company.  But  I  also  want  you  to  take  a  mother 
and  four  children  !  Four  boys,  from  one  to  nine 
years  old !  The  mother  is  feeble  and  a  month 
here  may  do  much  for  her ;  the  children  have 
all  been  through  a  siege  of  measles  and  whoop- 
ing-cough and  are  in  a  wretched  state.  I  do  n't 
ask  you  to  take  them  into  the  house  here,  but 
there  are  two  rooms  above  the  carriage-house 
that  could  be  fixed  up  with  beds,  a  washstand 
and  some  clothes-hooks,  some  chairs  and  win- 
dow-curtains, and  do  admirably  for  them.  Then, 
as  they  should  be  out  of  doors  all  the  time,  I 
propose  that  when  it  is  not  stormy  they  should 
take  their  meals  on  some  stationary  table  that 
your  men  can  fix  up  under  the  big  elm  beside 
the  carriage-house.  There  is  a  hydrant  in  the 
carriage-house;  have  a  big  tub  set  there  for 
them  to  take  their  nightly  baths.  When  it 
storms  they  can  eat  at  the  table  in  their  room. 
The  mother  can  set  her  table  and  wash  her 
dishes,  and  can  wash  in  your  laundry  for  her 
children  after  your  laundry  work  is  done.  If 
your  cook  will  prepare  plenty  of  plain  food,  the 
little  boys  can  take  it  from  the  kitchen  to  their 
mother.  They  can  play  in  the  grove  back  of  the 
carriage-house,  and  have  a  swing  and  a  see-saw 
there ;  and  there  is  the  little  brook  running 


254          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

through  the  grove  where  they  can  build  dams 
and  fish  and  sail  boats.  I  have  thought  it  all 
out.  May  they  come  ?  You  will  never  hear  or 
see  them  except  as  you  wish  to,  on  show  occa- 
sions, when  they  are  on  their  good  behavior.  I 
am  so  anxious  for  them  !  May  they  come  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Fix  it  as  you.  choose.  Where 
did  you  find  them  ?  What  work  does  the  mother 
do  ?  Where  is  the  father  ?" 

"  The  father  and  mother  both  work  in  a 
mattress  factory.  The  father  has  long  been 
disabled  with  an  injured  hand,  but  is  now  well. 
If  the  family  have  this  summer  rest  and  care 
the  father  can  get  ahead  a  little  again.  They 
are  badly  off  for  clothing.  I  heard  of  them 
through  a  Bible  woman  whom  I  know.  Uncle 
Josiah  meets  most  of  the  city  Bible  women." 

"  Tell  them  to  come  as  soon  as  you  like,  and 
if  the  plan  works  well,  we  will  keep  them  six 
weeks.  I  will  give  you  fifteen  dollars  to  get  the 
children  and  the  mother  some  clothes.  I  sup- 
pose the  boys  can  run  barefoot,  but  should  have 
shirt-waists  and  trowsers  and  hats." 

"  Just  see  how  wise  you  are  becoming," 
laughed  Deborah. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  think,"  said 
Leila,  "  and  I  am  reading  all  the  books  that  I 
can  find  on  the  Labor  Problem  and  the  state  of 
the  poor.  I  have  waded  through  the  reports  of 


TRUE  YOKE-FELLOWS.  2$ 5 

the  'Commissioner  of  Labor,'  and  through  es- 
says, and  found  no  little  help  in  many  novels, 
especially  Besant's.  If  Besant,  with  his  know- 
ledge and  large-heartedness,  had  only  the  ele- 
ment of  a  strong,  warm  Christianity  in  his  works, 
how  good  and  helpful  they  would  be!  I  am 
sure,  Deborah,  that  it  is  Christianity  that  must 
solve  these  questions  at  the  last.  The  brotherly 
love,  the  practical  fellowship,  set  forth  by  Christ 
must  do  the  work  to-day." 

"  And  are  you  not  happy,  Leila,  useful  and 
happy,  lying  here  in  what  you  once  thought 
would  be  hopeless  imprisonment?" 

"  Indeed  I  am.  It  was  a  true  word  you  said, 
Deborah,  that  where  head  and  heart  were  free 
to  work,  work  could  be  done." 

"  And  I  am  your  hands  and  your  feet,"  said 
Deborah. 

"  And  how  about  the  evening  talks  on  the 
women  of  other  lands  ?  Are  they  well  attended 
and  useful  ?" 

"  They  are  so.  They  make  the  girls  more 
contented,  and  they  are  educative  and  enlarge 
their  thoughts.  I  began  on  China  because  you 
could  furnish  things  for  that.  Then  I  took 
Japan,  and  a  gentleman  who  has  a  store  of  Jap- 
anese goods  lent  Uncle  Josiah  a  nice  lot  of 
things  for  that  talk.  Then  we  found  one  of  the 
city  churches  that  could  provide  us  help  and 


2$6  MR.    GROSVENOR'S    DAUGHTER. 

information  about  Siam,  and  I  read  copiously 
from  books  on  that  country.  And  so  it  has 
gone  on.  I  seldom  could  see  more  than  one 
lecture  ahead,  but  God  opened  the  way.  A 
Turkish  dealer  and  an  artist  came  and  gave  me 
the  talk  on  Turkey,  and  one  of  the  Rendel  firm 
did  the  Polynesian  Islands,  and  had  a  splendid 
show  of  curiosities.  Then  I  struck  another 
good  idea :  I  have  a  Swede  girl,  and  a  Norwegian, 
very  intelligent,  and  a  young  Hollander ;  and  I 
got  them  to  tell  us  about  life  in  their  countries. 
I  had  them  come  in  their  national  dress,  such  as 
they  wore  when  they  came  to  this  country,  and  I 
called  them  up  on  the  little  platform  with  me, 
and  asked  them  questions,  and  had  the  girls 
in  the  audience  ask  them  questions  ;  and  soon 
they  began  to  talk  freely,  and  told  us  all  about 
marriages  and  funerals,  Christmas  holidays,  and 
peculiar  customs  or  phases  of  domestic  life.  You 
have  no  idea  how  nice  it  was,  and  they  told  how 
the  women  did  field  work,  and  were  stone-cutters 
and  brick -layers  and  railroad  employees,  and 
how  in  Holland  they  often  towed  the  canal  boats, 
and  in  some  countries  were  even  harnessed  to  a 
plough !  Our  girls  thought  they  lived  in  a  pret- 
ty good  land  after  all." 

"  Dear  me !  I  wish  I  could  go  to  one  of 
those  talks,"  sighed  Leila. 

"  Next  winter  I  shall  arrange  talks  on  other 


TRUE  YOKE-FELLOWS. 

themes.  I  will  have  one  on  Botany,  and  you 
can  fill  the  platform  with  flowers  from  your 
conservatory  and  growing  plants,  so  that  the 
talk  can  be  simple  and  general,  about  the  food, 
drink,  sleep,  growth,  uses,  and  so  on  of  plants. 
I  could  get  one  of  the  High-school  teachers 
to  come  and  give  that.  I  see  clearly  that  we 
must  arrange  for  another  room.  The  one  we 
use  is  too  small.  I  want  all  to  come  that  will. 
for  the  talks  help  to  educate  and  refine  these 
girls,  give  them  nice  subjects  to  think  and  talk 
of,  and  keep  them  off  the  streets.  When  by  all 
means  to  be  used  we  can  build  up  a  higher  class 
of  working-girls,  then  the  wages  and  the  sur- 
roundings provided  for  them  will  be  better." 

"  But,  Deborah,  once  there  was  a  much 
brighter  class  of  working-girls.  Think  of  the 
girls  that  used  to  be  at  Salem  and  at  the  other 
factory  towns,  ^ey  were  refined  girls,  good 
farmers'  girls,  they  had  fair  education ;  they 
formed  clubs,  they  edited  papers  and  a  mag- 
azine ;  they  wrote  some  beautiful  things  in  prose 
and  poetry.  I  have  read  about  them.  But 
where  are  they  now  ?  In  the  report  of  the  wo- 
man's penitentiary  I  find  twenty  prisoners  be- 
tween the  ages  of  fifteen  and  twenty-four,  in 
for  terms  of  not  less  than  two  years,  for  habitual 
drunkenness  and  violent  conduct — all  factory 
girls.  Once  they  were  not  so." 

Mr.  Groavenor's  Daughter.  \*] 


258          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"A  great  number  of  very  ignorant,  low  girls 
from  foreign  countries  came  in,  emphatically 
hands,  not  heads  and  hearts  also,  and  were  will- 
ing to  take  low  wages,  because  they  were  willing 
to  live  in  a  crowded,  beggarly  way,  half  housed, 
half  clad,  poorly  fed.  The  manufacturers  en- 
gaged them  because  of  the  cheapness  of  such 
labor,  and  this  element  drove  out  the  self-respect- 
ing, well-respected  factory  girl  who  had  been  a 
credit  to  her  employer  and  elevated  her  work. 
If  the  employers  had  required  a  standard  of 
morality,  propriety  in  dress,  manners,  and  lan- 
guage, and  been  willing  to  allow  the  women  to 
be  womanly,  they  might  have  saved  crime  and 
criminals  to  the  State." 


HELP  THOSE  WOMEN. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

HELP  THOSE  WOMEN. 

"  So  heavenly  toned  that  in  that  hour 
From  out  my  sullen  heart  a  power 
Broke,  like  the  rainbow  from  the  shower." 

DEBORAH  and  Uncle  Josiah  were  sitting  on 
the  roof  one  August  evening.  In  the  waning 
light  Deborah  read  these  words  to  her  uncle 
from  a  book  that  lay  in  her  lap  :  "  Everywhere 
the  woman  gets  the  worst  of  it.  She  is  the 
hardest  worked  and  has  to  do  the  meanest  kinds 
of  work  ;  she  is  the  worst  paid  ;  she  is  always 
bullied,  scolded,  threatened,  or  nagged  and 
sworn  at  ;  she  has  the  worst  food  ;  she  has  the 
lion's  share  of  the  trouble  and  the  lamb's  share 
of  the  pleasure  ;  she  has  no  holidays,  she  has  the 
fewest  amusements.  Even  in  those  circles  where 
women  do  not  work  and  are  never  kicked,  they 
have  the  worst  of  it.  Beautiful  things  have  been 
written  about  womanhood,  damsels,  and  gracious 
ladies.  Girls  do  indeed  enjoy  a  brief  reign, 
while  they  are  wooed  and  not  yet  won.  After 
that  men  take  everything  for  themselves  that 
is  worth  having,  save  only  in  those  well-ap- 
pointed and  desirable  establishments  where 


260        MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

there  is  enough  to  go  round  for  man  and  wife 
too." 

Deborah  closed  the  book  ;  it  was  too  dark  to 
read  more. 

"That  is  largely  true,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 
"  Our  fallen  race  is  by  nature  tyrannical  and  tends 
to  dominate  and  abuse  the  weak.  Even  in  civil- 
ized  lands  there  are  barbarous  parents.  But  all 
that  is  not  true  where  Christianity  rules  the 
hearts  and  lives  of  men.  In  the  Christian  home 
the  mother,  wife,  sister,  daughter  are  sacred. 
Theirs  is  the  best  and  not  the  worst  that  is  to 
be  had." 

"  I  have  seen  Christian  men,  professors  of 
religion,  and  I  think  really  good  men,  who  were 
selfish,  nagging,  domineering  in  their  homes, 
measuring  all  the  world  by  a  capital  7;  and  I  is 
a  very  poor  yardstick,"  said  Deborah. 

"  No  doubt  you  have  seen  such  cases ;  all  are 
not  Christians  that  bear  the  name,  and  religion 
does  not  assure  perfection  here  below.  I  have 
heard  of  grace  being  grafted  on  a  crab-tree, 
where  some  of  the  original  crab  branches  did 
not  seem  to  have  been  lopped  off.  No  doubt 
also  you  have  seen  Christian  women  who  were 
pettish,  selfish,  and  idle.  I  wish  we  were  all 
nobler  examples  of  Christianity.  And  at  the 
end  of  all  it  is  in  the  Christian  religion  that 
woman  is  to  find  her  protection,  her  refuge, 


HELP  THOSE  WOMEN.  261 

her  safety  for  this  world  as  well  as  the  next. 
That  is  the  only  religion  which  does  not  exalt 
the  strong  as  over  the  weak,  which  does  not 
deify  fighting  qualities." 

"This  that  I  have  read  to  you,  uncle,  was 
written  by  a  man,  and  not  a  Christian  man,  yet 
a  strong  defender  of  women." 

"  I  hope  that  his  own  daily  practice  corre- 
sponds with  his  professions.  In  the  meantime, 
dear  Deborah,  I  have  always  told  you  that  while 
Christian  men  will  do  much  to  defend  women, 
Christian  women  can  do  more,  and  will  when 
they  are  awakened  to  the  needs  and  know  the 
sufferings  of  the  wives,  mothers,  and  daughters 
of  the  poor." 

"  Last  Sunday  afternoon  I  went  with  Mrs. 
Bent  to  a  hospital  to  ask  after  a  cousin  of 
hers,  a  laundress,  mother  of  eight  children, 
who  lies  nt  the  point  of  death  because  her  hus- 
band in  a  fit  of  anger  broke  her  skull  with  a  flat- 
iron.  He  is  in  prison ;  the  eight  children  are 
in  the  city  Homes  for  Destitute  children." 

"  Drunkenness  and  irreligion,  irreligion  and 
drunkenness !"  cried  Uncle  Josiah,  "  these  are 
their  fruits  to  woman  because  she  has  little 
muscular  and  no  political  strength.  The  law 
protects  women  in  some  measure,  but  it  cannot 
prevent  such  wrongs  as  those  which  are  the  re- 
sult of  brutal  ignorance  and  vice. 


262  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  That  the  oppressed  woman,  the  suffering 
woman,  is  still  waiting  for  her  sister  woman  to 
be  her  helper,  is  in  accordance  with  all  the  ad- 
ministration of  God's  providence.  When  Christ 
came  to  save  men,  he  took  not  on  himself  the 
nature  of  angels,  but  of  those  whom  he  came  to 
save :  he  became  brother  to  our  dust.  So  the 
ministry  of  reconciliation  is  not  committed  to 
angels,  but  to  men.  And  when  Christian  wo- 
men shall  wake  up  to  their  great  trust,  then  right 
shall  reign,  and  the  lot  of  the  working  women 
shall  not  only  be  alleviated,  but  made  honorable 
and  comfortable.  When  women  cease  to  think 
first  of  themselves,  of  buying  in  the  cheapest 
markets  and  confining  their  interests  and  ac- 
quaintanceships strictly  to  their  own  class,  then 
we  shall  see  the  dawn  of  better  days  :  when  all 
young  girls  shall  be  respected,  and  their  health, 
happiness,  and  honor  regarded,  when  all  wives 
and  mothers  shall  find  it  possible  to  care  first  for 
their  own  homes,  when  all  children  shall  be 
properly  nourished,  protected,  educated,  loved ; 
all  these  possibilities  are  in  the  hands  of  Chris- 
tian womanhood." 

"  I  wish  those  good  days  would  hurry  up  and 
come,"  said  Deborah,  "  for  just  now  things  seem 
worse  than  ever.  The  street  corners  are  crowd- 
ed with  idle  men  on  strike,  the  benches  in  the 
squares  and  parks  are  full  of  them,  the  docks 


HELP  THOSE  WOMEN.  263 

are  lined  with  them ;  and  meanwhile  the  women 
who  cannot  strike  must  work  harder  than  ever 
to  get  rent-money  and  bread.  A  poor  girl,  far 
gone  in  consumption,  who  left  work  on  a  ma- 
chine in  my  room  a  month  ago,  came  back  yes- 
terday asking  for  employment.  I  told  her  she 
was  not  fit  for  work. 

"  '  There  is  no  food,'  she  said ;  '  father  and 
brother  are  on  a  strike.' 

"  I  asked  Mr.  Ames  to  get  her  into  a  Con- 
sumptives' Home,  and  I  hope  he  will,  for  she  is 
unfit  to  work ;  and  besides,  I  think  it  terribly 
dangerous  and  unhealthy  for  a  girl  in  consump- 
tion to  be  among  the  other  girls  ;  she  is  cough- 
ing constantly,  and  the  others  in  the  hard  work, 
fatigue,  and  confined  air  of  the  work-room  are 
just  in  the  condition  to  contract  disease." 

"  It  is  hard,  indeed  it  is  hard,"  said  Uncle 
Josiah.  "  But  how  many  Christian  women  are 
there  in  this  country?  Every  one  of  them  is 
in  God's  intention  his  message-bearer  to  other 
women.  She  has  primarily  an  evangel,  a  phys- 
ical and  temporal  evangel,  to  carry  to  her  work- 
ing sisters.  True,  very  many  Christian  women 
are  abundantly  occupied,  but  it  is  safe  to  say 
that  over  one-half  of  them  are  not  fully  occu- 
pied, and  from  a  fourth  to  a  third  of  them  are 
doing  nothing  at  all  for  God  or  for  humanity. 
They  stroll  along  life's  flowery  ways  doing  noth- 


264          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ing  but  amuse  themselves,  forgetting  that  in 
God's  great  plan  no  one  walks  with  aimless  feet. 
I  say  from  one-fourth  to  one-third  are  so  idle,  in 
the  face  of  the  fact  that  such  a  large  majority  of 
women  are  working  women,  because,  if  you  will 
remember,  the  ranks  of  Christian  women,  of 
women  in  evangelical  churches,  are  not  largely 
recruited  from  the  working  women,  but  from 
the  richer  women  who  have  leisure.  One  of  the 
saddest  features  in  the  case  of  the  working 
women  is  that  many  of  them  are  so  overworked 
and  underfed  and  ill  clad  that  they  are  out  of 
the  reach  of  the  influence  of  the  churches." 

From  the  street  rose  the  sound  of  shrill 
voices  of  neighbor  women  in  a  high  quarrel ; 
there  were  vigorous  threats  of  calling  a  police- 
man, of  making  arrests,  of  "going  to  law." 
Then  the  strong,  even  tones  of  Nurse  Jamieson 
were  heard :  "  Come  awa,  women.  Why  wull 
ye  flite  ilk  ither  that  a  way  ?  Are  ye  no  sailing 
a'  in  the  same  boat?  Whaur  wull  ye  fin'  friends 
if  no  in  each  ither  ?  Tak'  a  cup  o'  tea  an'  agree  ; 
the  law's  costly.  Why  canna  ye  behave  like 
ladies?  Ladies  do  not  fight." 

"  Ladies !  Bonny  ladies  we  be,  down  here, 
born  in  Romaine  Court !" 

"  Ye  can  cultivate  a*  the  guid  behavior  that 
ye  will,  here  or  there.  The  trouble  a'  begins  in 
yer  threeping  at  ilk  ither.  A  guid  word  is  as 


HELP    THOSE  WOMEN.  265 

soon  said  as  an  ill  ane ;  why  do  ye  no  mind 
that?" 

"But,  Mistress  Jamieson,  Nora  Neal  is  always 
quarrelling  and  growling  like  a  dog  with  a  sore 
head." 

"  Well,  even  a  dog  winna  growl  if  you  quiet 
him  wi'  a  bone.  Gie  her  guid  words,  an'  she 
will  no  quarrel  wi'  them.  Puir  body,  wi'  sic  a 
bad  hand,  an'  three  sma'  children,  and  her  man 
cross  an'  on  a  strike,  hasna  she  enouch  to  mak' 
her  cross  ?" 

At  this  enumeration  of  her  woes,  Nora  Neal 
began  a  loud  weeping.  "  My  hand !  Look 
at  my  hand,"  she  sobbed;  "it  has  not  been 
dressed  for  two  days,  and  the  salve  costs  so 
much  money  I  can  buy  no  more,  now  my  man 
is  out  of  work."  As  for  hard  times,  she  had 
taken  a  cup  of  tea  early  in  the  morning,  and  not 
a  bite  since  ;  there  had  only  been  bread,  and  the 
children  ate  that,  and  it  was  not  half  enough,  and 
hunger  made  them  quarrelsome  ! 

First,  after  this  tale  of  woe,  fell  profound 
silence  for  a  moment  in  Romaine  Court.  Then 
Nurse  Agnes  broke  forth :  "  And  do  I  call  my- 
sel'  a  Christian  woman,  and  not  go  to  do  up 
your  hand  daily  ?  I  will  fetch  linen  and  warm 
water  and  castile  soap,  and  dress  it  this  mo- 
ment !  An'  as  for  the  childer,  puir  lambs,  I  '11 
gie  them  a  guid  wash,  and  then  a  guid  supper, 


266  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

and  pit  them  to  bed,  so  they  will  sleep  like 
tops." 

But  now  the  woman  with  whom  Nora  had 
been  quarrelling-  had  thrown  her  arms  about 
her  and  was  trying  to  comfort  her.  "  Not  a 
bite  to-day  ?  Dear  heart !  Well,  my  man  is  in 
good  work  and  good  wages,  and  I  '11  see  that  you 
do  n't  go  without  dinner  again.  Wait  a  bit ;  I 
have  as  good  a  plate  of  potatoes  and  bacon  and 
cabbage,  set  by  cold,  as  ever  you  tasted,  and 
you  '11  eat  it  as  soon  as  Mistress  Jamieson  dresses 
your  hand.  Take  heart ;  the  strike  will  be  over 
before  long!" 

"  And  what  for  do  the  men  strike,  when  all 
the  burden  of  it  lies  on  the  women  and  chil- 
dren ?  Was  n't  the  agent  scolding  her  about  the 
rent  this  very  day,  and  she  not  able  to  do  a 
stroke  of  washing !"  cried  a  neighbor. 

"  Is  it  the  rent  that 's  wanted  ?"  said  a  fat 
Irish  woman.  "  I  have  a  nickel  will  help  on 
towards  it,  and  some  of  the  rest  of  ye  may  have 
another.  '  Many  a  little  makes  a  muckle  ;'  is  it 
not  so,  Mistress  Jamieson  ?" 

Some  one  went  around  among  the  denizens 
of  Romaine  Court  and  took  up  a  collection  from 
them,  the  affair  being  easy,  as  all  the  inhabi- 
tants sat  on  the  doorsteps  and  curbstones  until 
eleven  o'clock  at  night,  when  possibly  it  might 
be  cool  enough  to  go  in-doors  and  sleep. 


HELP  THOSE  WOMEN.  267 

Poor  little  babies  of  Romaine  Court,  more 
luckless  infancy  still  of  slums  and  alleys,  to 
•which  Romaine  Court  was  respectable  gentil- 
ity! The  babies  of  happier  homes  slept  in 
cool,  shaded  rooms,  in  cribs  or  cradles,  tenderly 
watched,  carefully  put  to  bed  early :  these  ba- 
bies of  the  poor  lay  in  their  day-clothes  on  the 
bare  floors,  on  the  walks,  on  the  knees  of  moth- 
ers or  sisters,  hot,  exhausted,  panting,  whining, 
until  almost  midnight.  Poor  little  girl  children 
of  these  quarters  !  playing  tag  or  hide-and-seek, 
in  and  out  of  the  halls  and  cellars,  and  around 
into  the  streets,  under  the  horses'  feet,  about  the 
doors  of  saloons,  hearing  ribaldry  and  profanity, 
seeing  vice  in  every  form,  well  acquainted  with 
brawls,  arrests,  ejections — what  shall  be  done 
for  the  girl-children  of  the  Lazarus  Quarter? 
and  for  the  boys  whose  only  playground  is  the 
street,  the  rabble  their  masters,  the  grog-shop 
and  the  gambling  den  and  the  low  theatre  their 
paradise  ?  What  chance  for  them  to  grow  up  in 
honesty,  cleanliness,  industry,  and  make  in  the 
future  good  fathers  and  husbands  ?  What  shall 
be  done  for  the  Lazarus  Quarter  ? 

Uncle  Josiah  thought  that  he  had  found  the 
remedy — the  Christ-spirit  in  the  hearts  of  hu- 
manity, producing  brotherly  kindness,  courage, 
sympathy,  fair  dealing — none  selfishly  seeking 
to  rise  to  power  and  place  upon  the  fallen  bodies 


268          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

of  his  brethren ;  none  demanding  wealth  pur- 
chased by  a  fellow's  blood  and  tears.  Oh,  abi- 
ding spirit  of  holy  charity,  panacea  for  human 
troubles !  "  Charity  suffereth  long  and  is  kind  ; 
charity  envieth  not ;  charity  vaunteth  not  itself, 
is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  itself  un- 
seemly, seeketh  not  her  own,  is  not  easily  pro- 
voked, thinketh  no  evil ;  rejoiceth  not  in  ini- 
quity, but  rejoiceth  in  the  truth ;  beareth  all 
things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things ; 
charity  never  faileth." 

After  the  long  strike  of  the  men,  and  the 
additional  care  and  privation  and  toil  of  the 
women,  with  increased  neglect  of  the  children 
and  less  proper  nourishment,  came  an  autumn 
of  great  mortality.  "  So  much  sickness !"  people 
said.  The  streets  were  full  of  funerals ;  the 
Board  of  Health  became  uneasy  and  made 
alarming  reports;  the  death-rate  was  unusual, 
and  the  mortuary  paragraphs  in  the  papers  be- 
gan to  encroach  largely  on  the  columns.  The 
deaths  in  the  tenement  houses  were  not  often 
announced  in  the  papers,  but  when  fevers  and 
contagious  diseases  invade  the  homes  of  the 
poor  they  make  flights  thence,  and  brood  with 
baleful  wings  over  the  home  of  Dives.  Sickness 
and  death  are  essentially  democratic  in  their  na- 
ture, and  very  insistent  in  proclaiming  the  doc- 
trine of  the  common  brotherhood  of  humanity. 


HELP  THOSE  WOMEN.  269 

Nurse  Jamieson  began  to  report  sickness  in 
this  home  and  that,  and  to  spend  most  of  her 
time  in  going  from  one  invalid  to  another.  Old 
Mrs.  Jensen  died  first ;  she  had  far  passed  the 
allotted  period  of  life  and  found  it  trouble  and 
sorrow.  But  presently  cholera  infantum  reaped 
a  large  harvest  among  the  children ;  and  then 
fevers  fell  upon  the  men  and  the  overtaxed 
women ;  and  over  Romaine  Court  and  its  envi- 
ronments blew  a  cold  wind  from  the  realms  of 
death. 

What  was  to  be  done  with  the  widows,  with 
the  orphans,  with  the  broken-down  constitu- 
tions, with  the  invalids  but  half  restored,  drag- 
ging about  their  daily  tasks?  Deborah  had 
found  how  hard  a  matter  living  and  toiling 
were  in  these  courts  and  alleys  ;  now  she  found 
how  doubly  hard  being  sick  and  dying  were. 
She  had  no  time  now  to  visit  Leila,  but  she  sent 
her  some  convalescents  to  help  towards  health  ; 
she  wrote  her  daily  notes  and  laid  before  her 
many  pitiful  cases  of  need,  and  Leila  from  her 
couch  "  reached  forth  the  helping  of  a  hand." 

Hard  indeed  was  life  that  autumn  for  the 
poor ;  but  across  its  gloom  the  light  of  Christian 
help,  of  Christian  charity,  "  broke  like  the  rain- 
bow from  the  shower." 


270         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE   MYSTERY   OF   IT. 

"  I  say  the  acknowledgment  of  God  in  Christ, 

Accepted  by  thy  reason,  solves  for  thee 
All  questions  of  the  earth  and  out  of  it, 
And  has  so  far  advanced  thee  to  be  wise." 

"  DEBORAH  !  Deborah  Grosvenor  !  It  surely 
is  Deborah !" 

The  speaker  was  a  tall  girl  of  twenty-five, 
with  a  fine  intellectual  face.  The  place  was 
the  railway  train,  for  Deborah  was  going  on 
Saturday  evening  to  stay  until  Monday  with 
Leila. 

Now  that  the  sickness  in  the  neighborhood 
was  increasing,  Uncle  Josiah  sent  Deborah  out 
of  the  city  each  week  in  this  way.  "  I  promised 
your  father  solemnly  that  I  would  have  instant 
care  of  your  health,"  he  said. 

"My  health,"  responded  Deborah,  "is  per- 
fect." 

"  Very  good  :  let  us  keep  it  so." 

"Jacqueline  Day,  are  you  back  after  five 
years !"  cried  Deborah,  "  and  we  have  met  on 
this  train  !" 

"  I  was  sure  it  was  you,"  said  Jacqueline.     "  I 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  IT.  2/1 

could  not  mistake  the  poise  of  the  head,  your 
beautiful  hair,  and  the  lines  of  your  features.  But 
you  have  changed,  Deborah,  changed  wonder- 
fully. What  is  it  ?"  Jacqueline  looked  at  her 
critically.  "  Your  face  is  a  trifle  thinner,  and  you 
have -the  least  bit  less  color,  but  it  is  something 
else  that  makes  the  change.  Is  it  the  dress  ? 
Once  you  would  only  wear  dresses  from  Worth's 
and  very  splendid  jewelry.  Now  is  it  a  new 
notion?  You  are  severely  plain  in  this  gray 
gown,  with  a  cream  cr£pe  tie  and  no  ornaments. 
I  believe  I  like  the  new  fad  better  than  the 
old." 

Jacqueline  herself  wore  a  tailor-made  suit,  of 
a  soft  tan  material,  and  a  certain  choice  sim- 
plicity marked  her  whole  appearance. 

"  As  for  the  suits  from  Worth,"  said  Deborah 
gayly,  "  as  I  have  lost  all  my  money  I  cannot 
afford  them  ;  and  the  jewels  would  not  be  prop- 
er to  my  station ;  I  am  earning  my  living  in  a 
shirt  factory." 

"Why,  you  dear  girl!  I  had  heard  some- 
thing, two  or  three  years  ago,  about  your  loss  of 
property  ;  it  did  not  seem  possible." 

"  It  was  quite  possible,  and  you  have  no  idea 
how  easily  and  promptly  I  came  down  to  the 
ranks  of  working  women,  or  up  to  them ;  some- 
times I  think  it  was  a  fall  up." 

"  You  poor  dear !" 


272  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Do  n't  pity  me,  I  beg  of  you.  I  never  was 
as  happy,  as  reasonable  and  respectable,  before." 

"Happy — yes,  that  is  it.  There  lies  the 
change,  the  look  of  bored  "discontent  has  gone 
from  your  mouth  and  out  of  your  eyes.  There 
is  not  that  supercilious  air  that  once  marked  Deb- 
orah Grosvenor.  You  look  a  happier  woman." 

"  So  I  am." 

"  And  where  do  you  live  ?  out  on  this  line  of 
road  ?" 

"  No,  in  the  city,  in  Romaine  Court.  I  am 
going  to  stay  until  Monday  with  Leila  Stirling. 
Have  you  heard  of  Leila's  railroad  accident?" 
And  Deborah  told  Leila's  story.  "  But,"  she 
added  as  she  saw  Jacqueline's  face  full  of  com- 
miseration, "  don't  pity  Leila  either.  She  never 
was  so  happy  and  so  useful  in  her  life.  She 
has  found  her  place  in  the  world,  a  place  where 
she  was  needed,  and  where  she  would  be  great 
ly  missed  if  she  went  out  of  it." 

And  then,  as  the  train  swept  on,  Deborah 
told  of  the  work  Leila  had  found  to  do ;  how 
money,  time,  interests  were  all  consecrated  to 
God  in  the  service  of  humanity. 

"  There,  the  train  is  whistling  for  my  sta- 
tion," she  said. 

"  I  cannot  leave  you,"  cried  Jacqueline.  "  I 
must  see  you  longer  and  I  must  see  Leila. 
These  things  in  which  you  are  so  interested 


THE   MYSTERY    OF   IT.  2/3 

have  for  two  years  occupied  me.  In  London  I 
have  been,  not  playing  at  charity,  but  studying 
the  needs  of  my  neighbor  and  the  way  of  help. 
I  shall  go  with  you  to  Leila  ;  she  will  welcome 
me,  I  am  sure." 

"Joyfully,"  said  Deborah,  and  they  left  the 
train  together. 

"  Does  company  tire  you,  Leila  ?  Do  you 
keep  invalid  hours  ?"  asked  Jacqueline  after  tea, 
when  Mattie  had  passed  the  pretty  baby,  Linda, 
around  for  a  good-night  kiss  and  taken  her 
away,  and  Deborah  had  been  to  see  the  family 
lodged  in  the  carriage-house,  and  Jacqueline  had 
chatted  for  half  an  hour  on  the  piazza,  in  the 
purple  twilight,  with  three  or  four  shop-girls, 
Leila's  last  vacation  guests,  who  had  now  gone 
off  in  a  room  by  themselves  to  play  Parchesi. 
"  Can  we  talk,  Leila  ?" 

"  The  more  the  better.  I  am  not  nervous. 
I  am  feeling  well  and  strong,  only  that  I  am 
paralyzed  from  my  waist  down.  I  can  talk  half 
the  night,  and  make  up  for  it  by  sleeping  late 
to-morrow.  I  cannot  get  to  church  ;  that  is  one 
of  my  deprivations." 

"  This  is  a  splendid  work  you  are  doing, 
Leila — that  baby  adopted,  this  poor  woman  and 
her  boys  growing  so  fat  and  happy  in  your  care, 
these  girls  given  new  views  and  a  new  lease  of 
life  !  It  must  cost  you  a  mint  of  money." 

Mr.  Grosveuor'B  Daughter.  1 8 


274  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  Jacqueline ;  I  figured  it  up 
the  other  day.  I  am  becoming  an  expert  account- 
ant.     My  company  does  not  cost  me  as  much 
as  the  company  cost  when  we  entertained  our 
society  friends  out  here.     My  table  and  whole 
style  of  living  are  simpler,  as  more  suited  to  my 
guests.    They  do  not  want  French  cookery  and 
confections,   but    good   meat,    fruit,   milk,  and 
vegetables.    So  far  the  money  which  Deborah 
has   laid    out    for    me   in  charitable  work,  as 
some  call  it — justice  work  I  call  it,  stewardship 
work — is  not  so  much  as  I  used  to  spend,  or  as 
my  society  friends  spend,  during  the  year  in  the 
usual  routine  entertainments  that  are  thought 
necessary  to  one's  place  in   society.      A  lawn 
or  archery  party,  a  state  picnic,  a  drawing-room 
concert,  two  state  dinners,  and  a  ball,  in  a  year 
cost  nearly  double  what  I  have  spent  on  Debo- 
rah's widows  and  orphans,    lectures   and   day 
nurseries.     But  you  see,  Jacqueline,  our  work, 
Deborah's  and  mine,  is  only  just  opening.     We 
have  been  working  along  the  edges  of  affairs. 
We  do  not  want  to  make  mistakes ;  we  want  to 
know  what  is  needed,  and  the  best  way  to  meet 
the  need.     We  do  n't  want  to  pauperize  people, 
but  to  treat  our  sister- women  as  we  would  like 
to  be  treated, helping  them  up.   We  don't  think 
that  we  can  bring  in  the  Golden  Age,   but  we 
want  to  make  a  beginning.    We  have  hardly  yet 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  IT.  2/5 

found  out  what  the  wrong  is  which  we  should 
redress.  Have  you  looked  into  such  matters  ?  Is 
it  the  wages  system  ?  Is  it  the  neglect  of  the 
children  ?  Some  say  one  thing,  some  another." 

"  I  read  an  article  lately,"  said  Jacqueline, 
"  which  contended  that  all  wage-labor  was  not 
free  labor,  but  a  relic  of  slave  labor.  It  claimed 
that  to  the  wage  system  inevitably  belong  strife, 
tyranny,  the  grinding  down  of  the  poor  by  the 
rich,  the  hating  and  chafing  of  the  rich  by  the 
poor." 

"  But  if  one  cannot  take  nor  offer  wages  for 
work,  how  shall  one  have  any  work  done  ?" 

"  The  argument  was  that  the  wage  system  in- 
volved competition,  and  competition  was  specu- 
lative contention,  trying  to  place  goods  on  the 
market  in  the  largest  quantities,  at  the  lowest 
price,  and  to  succeed  in  this  the  wages  must  be 
reduced  to  a  minimum;  and  with  starvation 
wages  the  working  classes  are  brutalized.  Over 
against  this  age  of  competition,  based  on  the 
wage  system,  the  writer  proposed  to  set  the  age 
of  humanity,  based  on  cooperation." 

"  I  do  n't  see  how  cooperation  can  be  made 
to  work  all  along  the  line,"  said  Leila.  "  If  I 
have  a  factory  or  a  store  or  a  farm,  I  can  see 
how  cooperation,  an  equitable  division  of  profits 
called  by  ownership  investment  and  value  of 
labor  done,  might  be  arranged.  But  take  the 


276  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

woman  who  hires  some  other  woman  to  come 
in  and  do  her  washing,  or  the  owner  of  a  small 
lawn  and  garden  who  hires  a  workman  to  come 
and  trim  up  his  trees,  sod  bare  places,  and  set 
out  shrubs.  These  are  merely  for  ornament ; 
they  produce  nothing  to  the  employer  but  the 
pleasure  of  a  well-kept  place.  The  man  who 
does  the  work  wants  his  day's  wages  paid  at  once 
for  doing  it,  and  if  the  wages  are  fair,  sufficient 
for  him  to  live  according  to  his  needs,  it  seems 
to  me  that  justice  is  not  contravened  in  giving 
them.  It  is  evident  that  all  people,  by  the 
very  difference  in  taste,  do  not  need  the  same 
amount  of  money  to  live  on.  Take  Mrs.  Jordan 
here  in  my  carriage-house ;  suppose  she  and  I 
went  together  to  a  store  to  buy  a  floor-covering 
for  rooms  of  equal  size,  our  living  rooms.  A 
Persian  rug,  thick,  subdued,  rich,  would  take  my 
fancy  and  be  what  I  wanted  and  what  would 
give  me  pleasure  to  use.  Mrs.  Jordan  would 
truly  consider  the  rug  'an  ugly  thing,'  and  a 
flowing  red  ingrain,  at  seventy-five  cents  or  a 
dollar  a  yard,  would  be  just  her  idea  of  a  floor- 
covering  which  would  be  to  her  an  hourly  satis- 
faction. Her  want  would  be  met  with  thirty 
dollars,  mine  with  three  hundred,  for  substan- 
tially the  same  purpose.  I  know  that  this  is 
so,  for  she  was  allowed  to  come  and  see  the 
house,  and  she  told  the  housekeeper  that  she 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   IT. 

wondered  such  a  rich  lady  as  Miss  Stirling  did 
not  have  a  nice  carpet  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
added  that  she  supposed  I  gave  away  so  much 
that  I  could  not  afford  a  nicer  one.  That  de- 
spised floor-covering  had  cost  nearly  a  thousand 
dollars." 

The  girls  laughed. 

"  I  have  found  in  my  work,"  said  Jacqueline, 
"  that  many  things  are  and  must  remain  unset- 
tled, and  that  a  great  many  people  waste  time 
and  strength  in  demanding  the  impossible  and 
asking  why,  why,  why  ? — why  these  differences  ? 
why  do  the  people  submit  ? — when  they  had 
much  better  give  themselves  to  helping  those 
nearest  at  hand.  It  is  better  to  do  something 
than  nothing.  You  are  right  about  the  women 
and  the  children  being  the  real  sufferers.  The 
hope  of  the  women  of  the  future  is  in  the 
children  of  to-day ;  and  if  you  want  to  get 
women  above  '  the  scrub  level '  the  children 
must  go  to  school.  You  have  no  idea  how  the 
children,  lifted  to  a  higher  grade,  can  regener- 
ate their  homes :  they  take  home  new  ideas, 
new  hopes,  new  demands — the  parents  receive 
the  new  cleanliness  and  order  and  information 
from  the  child,  as  a  prophecy.  First  the  Day 
Nursery,  then  the  Kindergarten,  then  the  Public 
School — have  the  Kindergarten  and  the  Pub- 
lic School  compulsory,  the  Day  Nursery  attrac- 


278  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

tive  as  possible,  being  fully  equipped  and 
open  in  all  the  quarters  ;  after  the  Public  School 
the  Industrial  School,  compulsory  for  all  unoc- 
cupied children.  Then,  with  no  idle,  homeless, 
uncared-for  children  about  the  streets,  but  with 
all  children  growing  up  in  decency  and  order, 
we  shall  have  orderly  wives  and  sober,  industri- 
ous husbands  the  rule  of  the  future,  crimes  and 
criminals  brought  to  their  minimum." 

"  Always  provided  you  shut  the  grog-shops," 
said  Leila.  "  And  I  think  that  the  State,  as  the 
greater  parent,  should  see  to  it  that  all  children 
get  their  rights  of  education  and  shelter." 
>  "And  when  out  of  such  a  well-cared-for 
generation  we  get  the  house-mothers  and  the 
fathers  of  the  future,  with  homes  of  decency, 
then  will  come  the  Golden  Age !"  said  Deborah. 

"  We  cannot  make  the  State  do  its  part,"  said 
Leila,  "  and  the  homes  and  the  parents  are  very 
different  from  our  idea ;  and  if  they  were  all  as 
we  wished  in  point  of  morals  and  manners,  the 
best  ordered  homes  and  the  most  respectable 
people  need  bread  and  meat,  shoes  and  hats, 
and  various  other  things  which  the  present  sys- 
tem of  low  wages  for  women  does  not  afford." 

"  If  the  men  were  all  sober  and  industrious, 
if  so  many  men  were  not  drunkards,  wasteful 
and  abusive,  spending  money  on  drink  and  in 
gambling,  and  time  on  the  streets  or  in  prison, 


THE   MYSTERY   OF  IT. 

very  many  women,  who  now  are  compelled  to 
work  for  wages,  could  live  at  home  and  work 
only  for  the  comfort  of  their  households;  and 
with  such  a  great  number  removed  from  the 
competition  of  the  labor  market,  work  would  be 
more  plentiful  and  better  paid  for  the  others." 

"  What  the  Moravian  missionaries  have  done 
for  heathen  abroad,  we  must  do  for  heathen  at 
home,"  said  Leila. 

"  We  want  a  Settlement  in  every  one  of  the 
poor  wards  in  every  city,"  cried  Jacqueline.  "  Do 
you  know  what  a  Settlement  is  ?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Deborah.  "  I  know  only 
the  little  that  I  have  seen." 

"  A  Settlement  in  a  neighborhood  is  a  house, 
cleaned,  well  plumbed,  purified  to  be  what  land- 
lords should  be  compelled  to  make  all  houses — 
sanitary  places.  It  is  furnished  with  decency 
and  taste.  It  has  curtains,  rugs,  tables,  chairs,  a 
few  books,  pictures,  house-plants — such  simple 
comfortable  things  as  a  very  small  income  well 
administered  can  attain  unto,  and  yet  pure,  re- 
fined, tending  to  elevate  the  taste  and  ennoble 
the  life.  In  that  house  live  all  the  time  a  few 
educated  women,  women  of  refined  Christian 
characters  and  large  sympathies.  Some  go, 
others  come ;  the  number  is  always  complete, 
for  when  one  returns  for  a  time  to  her  former 
home  and  friends,  some  one  takes  her  place. 


280          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

These  women  become  the  friends,  sympathizers, 
helpers,  defenders,  teachers,  examples  to  all  who 
are  near  their  Settlement." 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  front  door,  and  as 
Leila  heard  the  man  servant  passing  through 
the  hall  to  answer  the  bell, 

"  Who  can  it  be  ?"  she  cried,  "  some  one  from 
the  down  train  ?" 

"  Mr.  Grosvenor,"  announced  the  butler, 
throwing  open  the  library  door. 

"  Uncle  Josiah  !"  exclaimed  Deborah,  hasten- 
ing to  meet  him.  "  Uncle  Josiah,"  chimed  Leila, 
holding  out  her  hand  from  her  couch,  for  she 
too,  desolate  of  kindred,  called  the  good  old  man 
uncle. 

"  Yes,  yes,  girls,"  laughed  Uncle  Josiah,  "  let 
me  put  down  my  impedimenta.  There  now," 
and  he  gave  Deborah  a  kiss,  and  stroked  Leila's 
bright  hair  as  he  bent  to  take  her  hand. 

"And  here  is  Jacqueline,"  said  Deborah  ;  "  do 
you  remember  Jacqueline  ?  She  used  to  be  one 
of  my  playmates.  Call  him  uncle  too,  Jacque- 
line ;  he  is  a  universal  uncle." 

Jacqueline  laughed  as  she  gave  the  old  man 
her  hand.  "What  have  you  brought  us,  'un- 
cle '  ?  I  am  interested  in  an  uncle  who  appears 
unexpectedly  in  the  night  and  sets  such  queer 
impedimenta  on  the  hearth-rug." 

Deborah  meanwhile  had  eone  down  on  her 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   IT.  28 1 

knees  to  the  impedimenta,  and  loosening  a  hood 
and  long  cloak,  revealed  a  very  rosy,  chubby, 
sleepy-looking  infant,  who  smiled  cordially  into 
her  eyes.  "  Why,  uncle,  uncle !  this  is  never 
that  poor  forlorn  little  Theodora  that  I  picked 
up  from  the  sidewalk  and  dressed  in  a  towel  and 
two  pocket  handkerchiefs !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  She  is  that  very  identical  infant,"  said  Un- 
cle Josiah,  taking  a  big  easy-chair  and  com- 
placently regarding  Jacqueline  and  Deborah 
seated  on  the  rug  beside  the  little  one.  "  Let 
Leila  have  a  good  look  at  her.  Can  your  baby 
come  up  to  her,  Leila  ?  What  do  you  think  of 
Mrs.  Willis  as  a  foster-mother  now,  niece  ?" 

"  She  must  be  perfect,"  cried  Deborah. 
"  Will  she  take  some  more  waifs  into  her  home 
and  heart  ?  If  she  will  I  can  hunt  them  up  for 
her.  Why,  '  Nobody's  baby,'  what  a  sweet  little 
creature  you  are !  Uncle,  this  reminds  me  of 
some  of  Dr.  Barnardo's  stories  of  treasure-trove 
of  human  souls,  found  in  gutters." 

"  You  see,  Leila,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  I  have 
been  out  to  my  old  home  for  a  few  days  on  busi- 
ness, and  I  concluded  to  bring  this  child  back 
for  Deborah  to  see.  It  will  encourage  her  in 
work  to  get  such  results.  Wednesday  I  will 
take  her  back  to  her  home,  as  I  must  go  there 
again.  Meantime  I  came  to  spend  Sunday  here 
with  you  girls." 


282          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  welcome  you  are," 
said  Leila,  ringing  for  a  tray  of  refreshments 
for  Uncle  Josiah,  and  for  her  young  nurse  to 
take  Theodora  to  bed.  "  We  were  deep  in  talk 
of  Settlements  and  Working  Women's  Bureaus, 
and  all  kinds  of  organizations.  Jacqueline  has 
been  abroad  studying  up  philanthropic  work. 
When  Deborah  and  I  went  abroad  we  never 
thought  of  such  things.  Oh,  Deborah,  what 
idlers  we  were !" 

" '  Forgetting  the  things  that  are  behind 
and  pressing  forward  to  those  that  are  before.' 
'Your  sins  and  iniquities  will  I  remember  no 
more,' "  said  Uncle  Josiah  kindly. 


THE   SETTLEMENT.  283 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE   SETTLEMENT. 

"  A  full,  rich  nature,  free  to  trust, 
Truthful,  and  almost  sternly  just, 
Impulsive,  earnest,  prompt  to  act 
And  make  her  generous  thought  a  fact, 
Keeping  with  many  a  light  disguise 
The  secret  of  self-sacrifice." 

AGAIN  it  was  Saturday  evening1,  and  the 
three  girls,  Leila,  Jacqueline,  and  Deborah,  were 
sitting  in  Leila's  library. 

"  I  want,"  said  Jacqueline,  "  to  begin  my  work 
at  once.  My  mother  and  I  have  talked  it  all 
over.  We  have  fifty  thousand  dollars  between 
us,  and  we  both  prefer  to  live  plainly  and  try  to 
do  some  good  in  the  world.  We  mean  to  take  a 
house  with  a  lawn  about  it,  in  the  suburbs,  but 
on  the  street-car  line.  We  shall  keep  a  horse 
and  surrey,  and  have  a  woman  for  the  house- 
work and  a  man  for  the  stable  and  garden.  We 
mean  to  take  a  girl  of  twelve,  and  have  her 
trained  in  light  work  and  table  waiting,  and 
when  she  is  seventeen,  and  able  to  get  good 
wages,  we  shall  find  for  her  a  nice  place,  and 
take  another  girl  to  train  up.  That  will  be  one 
of  our  little  ways  of  doing  good.  Another  of 


284          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

our  ways  will  be  to  buy  no  ready-made  gar- 
ments, but  have  our  sewing  done  at  our  home, 
at  good  wages,  by  some  city  seamstress,  who 
will  find  a  two  or  three  weeks'  sojourn  at  our 
house,  several  times  a  year,  a  real  benefit  to  her. 
But  our  great  work,  mother's  and  mine,  will  be 
the  Settlement.  We  visited  some  of  the  Set- 
tlements in  London,  and  resolved  to  devote  our- 
selves to  founding  one." 

"How  happy  you  are,"  said  Deborah  wist- 
fully, "  to  have  money  to  use,  and  a  heart  to  use 
it  well,  and  a  mother  to  be  your  co-worker  !" 

"  How  happy  you  are,"  said  Leila,  "  to  be  well 
and  strong  and  able  to  go  about  and  do  this 
work,  and  know  for  whom  you  are  toiling !" 

"God  has  his  plan  for  every  one!"  cried 
Jacqueline.  "  He  sends  into  the  world  no  aim- 
less feet,  and  in  the  end  you  would  not  renounce 
your  task  for  mine,  I  am  sure.  But  as  to  our 
Settlement.  There  must  be  a  good  gymnasium  ; 
it  shall  be  large  and  used  as  a  lecture-room  and 
concert-room.  We  shall  have  also  a  reading- 
room  and  a  laundry  and  three  rooms  for  conva- 
lescents, just  out  of  hospital,  or  for  girls  on  the 
verge  of  breaking  down,  but  whom  rest  will  re- 
store. Mother  and  I  will  devote  a  certain  amount 
of  income  each  year  to  the  support  of  our  Settle- 
ment, and  we  shall  try  and  interest  others  so 
that  the  work  can  be  maintained.  Before  I  lease 


THE   SETTLEMENT.  285 

the  house  I  am  to  go  about  and  secure  my  right 
workers,  the  furnishing  and  the  two  thousand 
dollars  that  will  be  the  least  income  with  which, 
added  to  the  one  thousand  from  mother  and  my- 
self, we  can  begin  work.  The  expenses  of  fur- 
nishing and  renovating  will  come  out  of  some 
money  which  we  have  for  three  years  been  lay- 
ing aside  for  this  purpose." 

"  And  the  place !"  cried  Deborah  ;  "  oh,  Jacque- 
line, will  you  not  choose  my  district?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Jacqueline,  "  as  well  one  ward  as 
another,  and  the  work  seems  already  begun  near 
you.  We  can  begin  our  Settlement,  and  some 
day,  who  knows  ?  you  can  open  your  Working 
Women's  Bureau." 

"And  I,"  cried  Leila,  "can  now  do  my  part. 
Hear  my  plan,  and  if  it  is  carried  out,  with  Bu- 
reau, Settlement,  and  ' my  work'  there  will  be 
one  ward  well  equipped  for  moving  towards  the 
Golden  Age  of  humanity." 

"  But  what  is  your  work,  Leila  ?  What  do 
you  mean  to  do  ?" 

.    "  Tell  me,  Deborah,  is  that  Day  Nursery  from 
which  Mattie  came  in  your  ward  ?" 

"  No.  It  is  one  street  within  the  limit  of  the 
next  ward." 

"  Well,  then,  my  plan  is  to  have  a  Day  Nur- 
sery in  each  ward  where  working  women  enough 
live  to  have  candidates  for  the  Nursery  to  the 


286          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

extent  of  five  babies.  To  begin  with,  I  will  es- 
tablish one  in  your  ward.  From  five  to  thirty 
babies  should  be  the  capacity  for  each  Nursery. 
Where  the  mother  gets  less  than  five  dollars  a 
week  wages  or  has  over  two  children,  then  her 
babies  should  be  free,  for  less  than  five  dollars 
cannot  provide  food,  rent,  and  clothes  for  mother 
and  children.  Those  who  are  able  to  pay,  on 
my  scale,  shall  be  charged  a  nickel  a  day.  Now 
my  Nursery  is  to  have  connected  with  it  a  Bible 
nurse,  with  a  sort  of  dispensary,  where  lint  and 
bandages,  poultices  and  plasters,  simple  home 
remedies,  and  suitable  food  for  the  sick,  as  tea, 
toast,  beef-tea,  soup,  porridge,  rice,  fruit,  jelly, 
and  crackers,  can  be  given  out  to  needy  cases, 
at  the  order  of  the  Bible  nurse.  My  Bible  nurse 
is  to  be  a  Christian  woman  of  experience,  large 
heart  and  sound  head,  who  shall  have  her  room 
next  the  dispensary  in  the  Nursery,  shall  go 
when  sent  for,  night  or  day,  and  shall  daily 
make  her  rounds  of  the  ward,  visiting  the  sick, 
dressing  burns  or  wounds,  making  the  invalids' 
beds,  bathing  them,  doing  their  hair,  helping  in 
whatever  is  needed  and  reporting  all  need  be- 
yond her  help.  My  ideal  is  the  Bible  nurse  of 
the  London  Bible  and  Domestic  Female  Mis- 
sion, started  by  Mrs.  Ranyard  in  Dudley  Street, 
St.  Giles,  London,  in  1857.  It  is  one  of  the  no- 
blest, most  useful  and  blessed  charities  of  the 


THE  SETTLEMENT.  287 

age,  while  one  of  the  most  unostentatious  and 
least  known.  I  want  one  of  those  true,  good, 
helpful  nurses  in  every  ward,  helping  and  heal- 
ing, but  especially  teaching,  showing  the  women 
how  to  nurse  the  sick,  how  to  take  care  of  young 
babes,  how  to  have  sanitary  arrangements  and 
cleanliness  and  decency  even  in  poor  homes.  I 
want  my  nurse,  or  some  one  even  better  fitted 
to  do  it,  to  give  a  weekly  lecture  on  health,  on 
proper  food,  on  beds  and  bedding,  on  the  airing 
of  clothes  and  taking  care  of  dish-cloths  and 
cooking  utensils,  and  on  conduct  in  emergencies. 
Why  should  the  rich  or  well-to-do,  who  have  so 
many  advantages,  be  the  ones  to  get  all  the  lec- 
tures on  baby  tending,  nursing,  food  stuffs,  and 
emergencies  ?" 

"  That  is  well  thought  of,"  said  Jacqueline, 
"  and  I  am  sure  you  can  arrange  your  home  for 
babies  and  your  Bible  nurse  and  find  them  great 
blessings.  When  I  talk  of  all  these  plans  my 
heart  enlarges  and  grows  hopeful,  and  I  see  in 
every  ward  the  Settlement,  the  Nursery,  with 
the  Bible  nurse,  the  working  women's  Bureau, 
and  finally  the  winter  garden." 

"  What !  What  is  that  which  you  have  sprung 
upon  us  all  at  once?"  cried  Deborah  and  Leila. 

"  It  is  not  for  you,  not  for  us  ;  it  is  the  '  Work 
of  the  City  for  its  Own  '—a  work  which  doctors 
and  ministers  and  public-spirited  citizens  should 


288  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

arouse  themselves  to  inaugurate,  through  the 
city  council.  Our  cities  have  parks,  have  bands 
of  music  in  public  gardens,  have  baths  and 
swimming  baths  and  out-of-door  gymnasia  for 
summer,  and  yet  it  is  safe  to  say  there  are  only 
four  months  in  the  year  when  these  things  are 
needed.  We  have  long  winters,  long  cold  springs 
and  falls,  and  where  can  the  people  gather  then  ? 
Where  is  a  good  place  for  the  boys,  out  of  school 
hours  ?  Where  a  place  free  from  temptation  for 
the  men?  There  should  be,  in  every  ward,  a 
house  with  reading-rooms,  lecture-rooms,  gym- 
nasium— and  the  children  of  the  public  school 
should  be  encouraged  to  give  entertainments, 
with  music,  speaking,  and  so  on ;  while  our 
school  teachers  could  give  lectures  with  experi- 
ments and  pictures,  and  musical  amateurs  could 
bring  music,  and  artists  could  come  with  black- 
boards to  entertain,  or  to  really  help,  by  hints 
on  free-hand  drawing.  These  winter  gardens, 
warm,  light,  bright,  with  the  popular  games  of 
the  day,  with  chess,  checkers,  dominos,  fox  and 
geese,  solitaire,  could  compete  with  the  bar-room 
and  grog-shops ;  they  would  empty  the  grog- 
shops and  elevate  the  people." 

And  so  Deborah  constantly  found  her  life 
growing  broader  and  richer ;  those  financial  and 
social  losses  which  at  first  had  seemed  to  narrow 
and  restrict  her  were  only  gateways  of  greater 


THE  SETTLEMENT.  289 

opportunity.  If  she  had  remained  the  cold, 
selfish,  idle  Deborah  of  other  days,  would  she 
have  entered  heartily  into  these  plans  of  Jacque- 
line ?  Would  she  have  inspired  and  helped 
Leila  ?  Deborah  had  never  been  a  close  friend 
of  either  of  these  girls  until  a  common  senti- 
ment of  Christian  charity  had  drawn  them  near 
together. 

Uncle  Josiah,  as  Jacqueline's  counsellor,  had 
his  time  and  his  heart  filled  with  the  work  of  the 
Settlement,  and  the  sturdy  old  man  seemed  to 
have  renewed  his  youth,  so  bright  and  full  his 
life  had  become.  Life  proves  amply  worth  the 
living  when  we  fill  it  with  work  for  others.  Do- 
ing God's  errands  makes  time  run  "  in  golden 
currents  on." 

Nurse  Agnes  was  not  left  out  of  these  inter- 
ests ;  she  heard  of  all  that  was  to  be  done,  and 
the  life  of  a  Bible  nurse  seemed  to  her  so  beauti- 
ful that  she  wished  to  engage  in  it ;  but  she  had 
Uncle  Josiah  and  Deborah  to  take  care  of,  and 
Uncle  Josiah  said  that  the  nurses  should  not  be 
over  forty  or  forty-five  years  of  age  when  they 
began  work.  However,  it  was  almost  as  pleasant 
to  help  select  furnishings  for  the  Day  Nursery 
and  to  discuss  the  means  of  securing  a  proper 
Bible  nurse  and  also  nurses  for  the  little  ones. 
The  entire  Grosvenor  household  seemed  to  be 
young  people,  buying  a  home  and  making  it 

Mr    Gn.svcuor's  Daughter.     IQ 


290  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ready,  so  regular  were  their  pilgrimages  to  the 
house  that  Jacqueline  had  leased  for  her  Settle- 
ment. 

Busy  in  the  shirt-factory  as  she  was  all  day, 
Deborah  was  only  free  in  the  evenings,  but  then 
some  of  the  ten  who  were  to  form  the  Settlement 
were  likely  to  be  at  the  house,  making  plans  and 
looking  at  the  repairs ;  and  through  the  empty 
rooms,  among  the  debris  of  plasterers  and  paper- 
hangers  and  joiners,  rang  the  clear  voices  and 
happy  laughter  of  girls,  and  in  and  out  of  the 
purlieus  of  Romaine  Court  flitted  figures  en- 
cased in  tailor-made  gowns  and  wearing  fine 
boots  and  eight-button  gloves.  Deborah  thought 
these  girls  were  far  in  advance  of  her  former 
society  friends.  These  girls  had  a  purpose  in 
their  eyes;  they  were  girls  who  lived  not  for 
self  and  selfish  amusement,  but  for  noble  pur- 
poses ;  they  were  college  or  university-bred  girls, 
most  of  them,  with  well-trained  minds,  capable 
of  planning  wisely  and  carrying  out  their  plans. 
Full  of  life  and  of  mirth,  their  wit  was  worth 
hearing,  and  they  had  no  time  to  waste  in  gos- 
sip or  censoriousness,  because  there  was  always 
some  good  theme  worth  talking  about  waiting 
for  them. 

Deborah  saw  clearly  that  somewhere  and 
somehow  she  must  make  time  for  reading  and 
keeping  abreast  of  the  topics  of  the  day,  if  she 


THE    SETTLEMENT.  29! 

was  to  live  at  the  intellectual  level  of  these  new 
friends.  But  how  could  she  make  time  for  read- 
ing ?  For  nine  hours  a  day  she  was  busy  in  the 
finishing-room.  "If  I  were  a  labor  agitator," 
she  said  to  Uncle  Josiah,  "  I  should  agitate  for 
an  eight-hour  law.  Where  shall  we  find  time 
for  any  cultivation  of  the  mind,  if  we  have  to 
spend  ten  hours  daily  in  getting  food  for  the 
mouth  and  covering  for  the  back  ?" 

While  Deborah  was  thus  busy,  not  only  with 
her  daily  duties,  but  with  her  new  friends  who 
were  bringing  hitherto  unknown  joys  into  her 
life,  she  noticed  that  Jean's  face  was  growing 
cloudy.  She  thought  two  or  three  times  that 
she  would  ask  what  was  wrong,  but  life  was  so 
full  now  for  the  once  idle  Deborah  that  in 
crowding  cares  each  day  she  neglected  her  pur- 
pose towards  Jean.  One  evening  Martha  lin- 
gered after  the  girls  left  the  finishing-room. 
"  Miss  Grosvenor,"  she  spoke  up,  "  I  wish  you  'd 
look  after  Jean  a  little." 

"  Jean  !  is  she  going  wrong !"  cried  Deborah 
with  a  pang  at  her  heart. 

"  Not  yet,  and  I  know  you  would  be  cruelly 
hurt  if  she  did ;  and  if  she  falls  now,  I  fear  it 
will  be  never  to  rise  again." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  Martha,"  said  Deborah, 
dropping  her  account-book.  Nothing  now  was 
of  any  consequence  but  Jean. 


292          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  All  about  it  is — she 's  jealous,"  said  Martha. 

"  Jealous  ?    I  do  n't  understand." 

"  Why  Jean  just  adores  you.  She  says  she 
first  understood  how  the  Lord  could  stoop  to 
poor  sinful  folks,  and  be  interested  for  them 
and  faithful  to  their  cause  now  that  he  is  in 
glory,  by  seeing  how  you  live  among  us  and 
work  for  us  and  are  faithful  to  us." 

"  I  came  because  I  had  to — not  voluntarily," 
said  Deborah. 

"  I  know.  But  you  came  cheerfully,  and  you 
might  have  gone  back.  Well  Jean  felt  all  this  ; 
but  lately,  with  the  Settlement-house  and  the 
young  ladies  there,  you  have  not  noticed  Jean 
so  much,  and  she  says  if  you  give  her  up  she 
might  just  as  well  give  herself  up,  and  make 
sure  it  is  all  a  mistake  about  the  Lord's  caring 
for  her!" 

"  Poor  tempted  girl !"  cried  Deborah  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  "  how  many  snares  Satan  has 
for  souls !  I  did  not  mean  to  neglect  her. 
Martha,  you  see  to  it  that  you  all  are  at  home 
in  your  rooms  to-night,  ready  to  receive  com- 
pany. I  am  coming  to  call  with  the  college 
girls.  We  want  you  to  help  us  with  our  Set- 
tlement." 

"  Thank  you  for  Jean,"  said  Martha  frankly, 
"  but  you  need  not  think  you  must  bring  me  in, 
Miss  Grosvenor,  for  I  am  glad  enough  to  get 


THE    SETTLEMENT.  293 

the  opportunity  you  are  giving  me  to  make  a 
stand  for  myself." 

"We  want  you  all  in  it,"  said  Deborah 
warmly.  "  We  cannot  do  without  one  of  you ! 
These  University  girls  are  all  as  much  interested 
in  every  one  of  you  as  I  am,  only  they  do  not 
yet  know  you  quite  so  well.  I  wasted  in  selfish- 
ness the  years  when  I  had  money  and  leisure, 
but  these  girls  are  good  stewards  of  the  mani- 
fold grace  of  God.  There  is  Hannah  Lane,  the 
pretty  one,  with  the  fluffy  yellow  hair — what  do 
you  think  she  has  done  ?  She  has  fitted  up  a 
room  on  the  first  floor  for  a  sewing-room,  with 
a  cutting-table  and  three  sewing-machines,  so 
that  girls  can  come  in  and  learn  to  cut  and  make 
their  clothes.  And  Mary  Field  has  taken  the 
charge  of  putting  four  bath-rooms  in  the  base- 
ment of  the  house,  and  girls  can  bring  their 
own  towels  and  soap  and  have  a  bath  for  five 
cents.  You  know  there  is  to  be  no  pauperizing. 
Mary  Field  got  her  money  for  the  bath-rooms  by 
selling  some  diamonds  that  her  aunt  had  left 
her.  She  says  she  does  not  care  for  jewelry, 
and  as  long  as  the  money  is  needed  for  Christian 
benevolence  she  feels  as  if  she  ought  not  to 
keep  it  tied  up  in  gems.  Hannah  Lane  sold  a 
saddle  horse  to  get  her  money  for  the  sewing- 
room.  She  and  her  sister  each  had  one,  and 
Hannah  sold  hers,  and  will  share  her  sister's 


294         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

horse  while  she  is  at  home.  Now  I  never  made 
any  sacrifices  like  that.  Oh  I  was  so  selfish  and 
indifferent !" 

Martha  looked  at  her  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 
"May  I  tell  the  girls  all  that — just  what  you 
have  said  about  yourself  and  all?  It  will  do 
them  good.  I  know  it  will  be  what  Jean  needs." 

"  Yes  ;  tell  them,  and  tell  them  that  I  try  to 
outgrow  the  old  selfishness,  but  sometimes  I 
forget  and  am  neglectful,  and  when  I  am  that, 
I  am  unlike  my  Master  and  Lord.  I  confess  my 
fault  to  you." 

Suddenly  Martha  went  behind  Deborah. 
"  Do  n't  turn,  do  n't  look  at  me.  I  cannot  bear 
it.  I  must  tell  you  now.  You  must  know  the 
truth.  I  went  wrong  once — terribly  wrong.  I 
was  a  cashier  in  a  shop.  I  stole  some  money." 

Deborah  turned  towards  the  girl.  "  Dear 
Martha,  I  know  it  must  have  been  through  ter- 
rible temptation.  It  was  not  a  fault  natural  to 
you."  She  clasped  Martha  in  her  arms. 

"  I  had  a  brother  dying  of  consumption,  and 
we  were  very  poor.  My  employer,  in  consider- 
ation of  the  circumstances,  did  not  prosecute 
me,  but  dismissed  me  without  recommendation, 
and  I  just  could  not  rise  or  make  any  way  again 
until  you  held  out  a  helping  hand  to  me." 

Both  the  girls  were  in  tears.  Then  Deborah 
spoke  gently :  "  We  both  see  where  we  have 


THE    SETTLEMENT.  295 

failed.  Let  us  take  courage  for  ourselves  and 
others.  I  remember  some  lines  of  a  poem  I  re- 
cently read,  bidding  us 

" '  Judge  none  lost,  but  wait  and  see 
With  hopeful  pity,  not  disdain ; 
The  depth  of  the  abyss  may  be 

The  measure  of  the  height  of  pain, 
And  love  and  glory,  that  may  raise 
The  soul  to  God  in  after  days.'  " 

"  You  are  learning,  you  are  learning,"  cried 
Uncle  Josiah  that  evening,  rubbing  his  hands 
together  and  giving  a  joyful  chuckle.  "You 
are  being  tested,  child,  and  you  shall  come  out 
like  gold.  It  is  worth  while." 

"Anything  is  worth  while  that  makes  us 
less  selfish  and  detestable,"  said  Deborah  ear- 
nestly. 

Deborah  and  Uncle  Josiah  called  for  the 
University  girls,  and  they  all  made  their  visit  at 
the  rooms  where  Martha,  Jean,  Bella,  and 
another  young  woman  lived.  It  did  not  take  ten 
minutes  for  Deborah  and  pretty  Hannah  Lane 
to  break  the  ice  of  restraint  and  bring  the 
working-girls  into  sympathy  with  the  student 
girls,  and  a  happy  hour  of  talk  and  explanation 
followed.  Then  Mary  Field  whispered  to  Jean, 
and  they  went  out  and  came  back  with  popped 
corn,  apples,  cracked  nuts,  a  box  of  figs,  and  a 
dozen  of  paper  napkins.  The  feast  was  joyful, 


296          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

and  Martha  whispered  to  Deborah,  "  It  is  all 
right  now  with  Jean,  I  see  it  in  her  eyes." 

Jean  herself  took  Deborah  aside  and  said, 
half  crying,  "  Dear  Miss  Deborah !  I  have 
been  so  jealous  and  envious.  I  thought  you  had 
forgotten  me  for  those  others.  And  I  said  to 
myself,  Perhaps  the  Lord,  having  all  those  beau- 
tiful angels  up  yonder,  sets  no  store  by  poor 
me.  But  I  see  I  was  wrong.  You  do  remem- 
ber me,  and  he  does.  I  wonder  you  can,  miss, 
with  such  lovely  young  ladies  to  be  with !" 

"  Would  your  mother  forget  you  for  the 
angels,  Jean?" 

"  My  mither !  na,  not  for  a'  the  angels  in 
glory!" 

Jean  only  relapsed  into  her  Scotch  accent 
when  her  heart  was  softened  by  thoughts  of  her 
mother  or  strong  feeling,  she  had  been  in 
America  so  many  years. 

"  Neither  would  the  Lord  who  bought  you 
forget  you  for  all  the  angels,  my  dear  girl,"  said 
Deborah.  "  Good-night." 

Finally  the  Settlement — "No.  i,"  as  Jacque- 
line named  it — was  all  in  order,  fully  organized 
and  equipped  for  work.  Uncle  Josiah  had 
aided  in  collecting  funds  for  the  running  ex- 
penses. The  Settlement  was  not  to  be  a  head- 
quarters for  doll-giving,  but  an  exemplary  home, 
a  place  of  resort  for  comfort,  for  advice,  fo*  im- 


THE    SETTLEMENT. 

provement.  Evening  classes  were  arranged. 
Mary  Field  taught  book-keeping  and  typewri- 
ting two  evenings  in  each  week.  Hannah  Lane 
taught  stenography  and  drawing ;  Jacqueline 
was  ready  to  give  lessons  in  modern  languages, 
and  her  mother  taught  penmanship,  embroidery, 
drawn  work ;  almost  any  working-girl  who 
wished  to  pursue  some  especial  study  in  the 
evening  hours  could  find  instruction,  freely 
given,  at  the  Settlement.  A  city  dressmaker 
of  high  repute  offered  to  give  two  evenings  a 
month  in  the  sewing-room  to  instruction  in  cut- 
ting and  fitting  and  making  dresses  and  jackets. 
The  whole  aim  of  the  Settlement  was  to  refine 
and  improve  all  those  who  came  under  its  in- 
fluence, so  that  instead  of  being  pauperized, 
their  desire  should  be  to  provide  honorably  for 
themselves  and  make  friendly  return  for  favors 
received.  Jacqueline  had  constant  proof  of  this. 
Girls  who  used  the  sewing-room  came  of  their 
own  accord,  early  on  Saturday  mornings,  to 
polish  the  windows  of  No.  i ;  girls  who  were 
taught  in  the  evening  classes  came  insisting 
upon  doing  laundry  work.  A  very  hopeful 
token  of  the  real  good  that  was  being  done  was 
the  self-help  and  the  spirit  of  honorable  inde- 
pendence that  were  displayed.  Deborah  was 
prouder  of  her  girls  than  ever. 

And  Deborah  herself  was  wonderfully  helped 


298  MR.   GROSVENOR'S   DAUGHTER. 

and  enlivened  by  the  presence  of  the  girls  in 
No.  i ;  they  were  congenial  companions,  and 
the  evenings  spent  with  them  refreshed  her  as 
cold  water  the  thirsty  traveller.  It  was  only  a 
square  or  two  from  Romaine  Court  to  No.  i,  and 
scarcely  a  day  passed  when  Deborah  was  not 
there.  She  found  there  the  intellectual  help 
that  she  needed.  While  some  of  the  members 
of  the  Settlement  were  busy  in  teaching,  there 
were  always  others  at  leisure  in  the  sitting-room. 
Any  of  the  women  and  girls  of  the  neighbor- 
hood were  welcome  to  come  in  there,  to  sit  and 
listen  with  the  rest,  for  in  the  evening  there 
was  always  reading.  The  books  of  the  day,  the 
subjects  of  the  day,  were  taken  up,  and  books 
were  read  without  a  comment,  unless  some  one 
asked  a  question.  The  book  reviews  were  read 
aloud,  and  if  some  book  reviewed  promised  to 
be  especially  attractive  it  was  either  purchased 
or  brought  from  the  city  library.  It  is  wonder- 
ful how  much  ground  can  be  covered  by  two 
hours  of  reading,  two  or  three  times  a  week. 
Deborah  learned  more  and  more  the  virtue  that 
there  is  in  systematized  work  and  study. 

And  then  how  much  planning  went  on  at 
No.  i !  When  reading  hours  were  over,  the 
girls  drew  around  the  open  fire-place  and  plan- 
ned. There  were  all  kinds  of  plans,  plans  for 
being  missionaries,  and  for  running  a  sheep,, 


THE   SETTLEMENT.  299 

ranch,  and  journeying  around  the  world  to  in- 
quire into  the  status  of  the  general  woman. 
Deborah  planned  for  her  "Working  Women's 
Bureau,"  and  she  kept  a  note-book  wherein  she 
wrote  the  various  suggestions  made  for  her 
Bureau  by  the  inmates  of  No.  I. 


300  MR.   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  TEST  APPLIED. 

"  A  maiden  knight,  to  me  is  given 

Such  hope  I  know  no  fear ; 
I  yearn  to  breathe  the  airs  of  heaven 

That  often  meet  me  here. 
I  muse  on  joys  that  will  not  cease, 

Pure  spaces  clothed  in  living  beams, 
Pure  lilies  of  eternal  peace, 

Whose  odors  haunt  my  dreams ; 
And,  stricken  by  an  angel's  hands, 

This  mortal  armor  that  I  wear, 
This  weight  and  size,  this  heart  and  eyes, 

Are  touched  and  turned  to  finest  air." 

JACQUELINE'S  Settlement  was  opened  the  first 
day  of  December,  and  on  Christmas  Day  there 
was  a  tree  for  the  girls  and  boys  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. Leila  had  found  occupation  and  hap- 
piness during  November  and  December  in  pre- 
paring gifts  for  the  ten  or  fifteen  babies  in  the 
new  Day  Nursery  and  for  the  mothers  also. 
Every  Sabbath  afternoon  the  Bible  nurse  went 
to  Leila's  home,  reported  the  work  of  the  week, 
the  needs  of  the  Dispensary,  and  the  most  note- 
worthy cases ;  then  she  took  tea  with  Leila  and 
her  companion,  went  to  evening  service,  and  re- 
turned home  refreshed  for  next  week's  work. 


A   TEST  APPLIED.  3<DI 

Does  any  one  say  that  in  rich  America,  with 
its  many  millionaires,  its  great  fortunes,  where  a 
hundred  thousand  dollars  do  not  make  a  person 
rich,  where  people  proclaim  that  no  one  need  be 
poor  unless  vicious  —no  need  existed  for  a  Bible 
Nurse  ?  Let  us  take  an  extract  or  two  from  the 
reports  of  this  nurse.  "  I  found  a  girl  of  four- 
teen with  her  shoulder  badly  grown  out  and  de- 
formed by  carrying  a  heavy  child  for  five  years  ; 
this  child  being  large  and  fat,  but  unable  to 
walk  from  some  trouble  in  the  bones."  The 
nurse  took  the  girl  to  a  Surgical  Hospital,  and 
the  doctor  said  she  must  attend  one  hour  at  the 
Physical  Culture  class  each  day  until  cured. 
No  charge  would  be  made.  Ah,  then  this  girl 
would  be  all  right !  Not  at  all.  The  family  are 
too  poor  to  pay  car-fare  to  the  Hospital,  and 
even  if  that  were  paid,  they  are  too  poor  to  dis- 
pense with  the  girl's  earnings  of  two  dollars 
and  a  quarter  weekly,  which  she  makes  in  a  to- 
bacco factory,  and  if  she  goes  daily  to  the  Hos- 
pital she  will  lose  that  place.  Furthermore,  she 
must  go  on  carrying  the  child  ;  there  is  no  one 
else  to  do  it,  and  if  she  does  not  carry  him  about 
at  noon  and  in  the  evening  he  screams  all  night. 
Thus  Lena  is  doomed  to  a  miserable,  deformed, 
sickly  existence. 

Again  a  case  :  The  nurse  found  the  family 
of  a  scissors-grinder  ;  the  wife  cuts  and  sews 


302  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

carpet-rags  at  three  cents  a  pound*  she  works 
from  twelve  to  fifteen  hours  a  day ;  beside  her 
as  she  works  lies  a  boy  of  nine,  far  gone  in  con- 
sumption, inhaling  the  dust  and  lint  from  the 
rags  which  infect  all  the  air  in  the  two  close, 
miserable  rooms.  Again  :  A  widow  with  four 
small  children  ;  she  was  sick  of  pleurisy  and 
for  three  weeks  had  earned  nothing  ;  the  nurse 
found  her  unable  to  stand  up,  crying  over  a 
bundle  containing  a  small  clock,  a  majolica 
pitcher,  a  little  plaster  cast,  and  a  muff,  which 
she  was  making  ready  for  the  eldest  boy,  eight 
years  of  age,  to  carry  to  the  pawnbroker's.  At 
one  home  the  Bible  Nurse  found  a  little  girl 
putting  in  practice  what  she  had  learned  at  the 
Cooking  School ;  the  mother  was  sick,  and  this 
child  was  housekeeper.  The  father  having  paid 
the  week's  rent,  and  bought  two  bushels  of  coal, 
had  but  ten  cents  to  provide  tea  and  breakfast 
for  five.  The  ten-year-old  girl,  grown  discreet 
as  a  woman  under  the  hard  tutelage  of  poverty, 
inventoried  the  supplies  in  her  cupboard,  and 
found  pepper,  salt,  a  stale  loaf,  and  a  pint  of 
milk.  She  bought  four  cents'  worth  of  mac- 
caroni,  a  penny  pat  of  butter  and  a  penny  roll 
for  the  sick  mother,  a  pound  of  corn  meal  for 
two  cents,  and  two  cents'  worth  of  molasses. 
The  meal  made  into  mush  served  with  the  mo- 
lasses and  half  the  loaf  for  breakfast,  the  oth^r 


A  TEST  APPLIED.  303 

half  of  the  loaf,  and  the  maccaroni  with  the 
milk  cooked  in  it,  afforded  the  supper. 

"  How  smart  my  girl  is  !"  said  the  gratified 
father.  "  I  must  be  a  good,  steady  man  when 
my  child  can  make  such  good  use  of  what  I 
earn." 

The  nurse  found  one  morning  a  woman  with 
six  children,  just  moved  into  an  attic.  The 
woman  was  crying  bitterly  as  she  set  her  few 
goods  in  order.  "  I  have  left  my  husband  and 
taken  my  poor  children  with  me.  He  was  drink 
crazy  all  the  time.  He  used  up  all  I  earned, 
swore  at  me  from  morning  till  night,  and  kicked 
and  beat  the  children  until  I  thought  he  would 
kill  them  or  make  idiots  of  them.  Oh  when  I 
married  him  I  thought  he  loved  me  and  we 
should  be  happy  together,  but  drink  has  spoiled 
it  all !" 

For  such  cases  what  does  the  Bible  nurse 
do?  She  cares  for  the  sick  mothers,  provides 
nourishment  for  the  sick  child,  rescues  the  poor 
little  treasures  that  were  going  to  the  pawnshop 
and  gives  their  owner  a  small  sum  of  money  for 
present  needs.  She  makes  suggestions  to  the 
ten-year-old  housekeeper  and  provides  suitable 
diet  for  her  mother,  while  she  explains  to  the 
fugitive  mother  legal  means  for  her  security  and 
provides  work  for  her  and  a  place  in  the  Day 
Nursery  for  the  two  younger  children.  The 


304          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

other  children  of  these  families  are  given 
clothing,  so  that  they  can  go  to  the  Mission  Sun- 
day-school, and  the  mothers  are  all  engaged  to 
come  on  Sunday  afternoon  to  the  Mothers' 
Meeting.  The  sight  of  a  friendly  face,  the  good 
cheer  brought  by  the  words  of  a  strong,  capable, 
self-reliant  woman,  fill  the  dull,  vacant  places  in 
their  poor  weary  hearts  and  bring  courage  to 
take  the  place  of  despair.  This  woman's  sym- 
pathy and  message  of  good  are,  no  doubt,  to 
these  forlorn  creatures  their  first  contact  with 
Christian  philanthropy ;  in  her,  first,  for  them 
religion  puts  on  her  beautiful  garments  and 
walks  by  their  side  in  heavenly  ministration. 

There  were  weeks  also  when  the  Bible  nurse 
had  to  tell  her  principal  of  death-beds  soothed 
and  dying  ears  made  glad  by  words  of  One  who 
entered  the  grave  and  came  forth  leading  cap- 
tivity captive.  By  means  of  this  Bible  nurse 
Leila,  the  crippled  invalid,  went  among  the 
homes  of  the  needy.  She  knew  personal  needs 
and  sent  personal  gifts.  To  the  little  consump- 
tive a  flannel  wrapper,  a  picture  book,  a  bottle 
of  lime  juice,  and  glasses  of  apple  jelly.  To 
keep  quiet  the  sick  widow's  children  went  dolls 
and  a  box  of  ninepins.  The  poor  abused  wife 
received  bedding  and  furniture.  Sometimes  the 
Bible  nurse  brought  women  or  children  to  see 
the  lady  who  had  been  a  sister  born  for  their 


A  TEST  APPLIED.  305 

adversity.  Then  Leila  had  them  served  with 
refreshments,  and  so  filled  their  visit  with  good 
cheer  that  it  seemed  like  a  little  piece  of 
heaven. 

"I  do  not  wonder,  Deborah,"  said  Leila, 
when  one  evening  Uncle  Josiah  and  Deborah 
came  to  visit  her,  "  I  do  not  at  all  wonder  that 
you  so  much  enjoy  work  among  the  needy.  I 
feel  that  I  never  knew  such  interest,  such  true 
happiness,  as  I  find  in  helping  them.  This  life 
of  service  is  real  living." 

"  I  think  now  nothing  could  turn  me  from 
it,"  said  Deborah. 

"  Suppose  that  now  you  came  unexpectedly 
into  some  money,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "what 
would  you  do  with  it?" 

"Use  it  for  starting  my  Bureau,  if  it  was 
enough." 

"What,  first  of  all?  I  should  suppose  that 
you  would  arrange  to  leave  the  shirt-factory, 
support  yourself  out  of  what  you  had,  and  give 
what  you  could  spare — and  your  time,  if  you 
could  spare  any." 

"That  might  do,  uncle,  if  the  work  in  the 
factory  were  hurting  me  at  all.  But  it  is  not. 
I  am  perfectly  well,  and  also  I  know  that  I  am 
of  use  in  the  factory.  I  am  a  useful  forewoman 
to  the  girls,  and  not  a  poor  one  for  the  firm. 
There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  wish  to  stop 

Mr.  Ores vcnor'e  Daughter.        2O 


306         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

earning  my  living.  Work  is  far  less  wearisome 
than  such  idleness  as  I  once  had.  I  do  truly 
think  that  if  I  received  money  now,  I  should 
put  it  into  my  cherished  plan  of  a  Working 
Women's  Bureau.  I  could  start  a  Bureau  only 
in  one  ward.  But  some  one  else  might  like 
the  plan,  take  the  hint,  and  start  a  Bureau  in  the 
next  ward,  and  so  on,  until  every  ward  in  the 
city  had  one." 

"Not  the  rich  people's  wards,  where  all 
women  live  at  ease  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  in  them  too.  They  should  have 
their  Bureau  where  the  women,  the  philan- 
thropic workers,  should  meet  and  devise  plans 
for  helping  the  children,  caring  for  the  sick, 
giving  industrial  training  to  the  young  boys 
and  girls,  benefiting  the  servant  women  and  ele- 
vating them  morally  as  a  class.  In  short,  in  the 
rich  wards  the  Bureau  should  be  an  institute 
for  workers.  Why  how  much  I  once  needed 
such  a  training !" 

"  Would  you  have  gone  near  such  a  Bureau 
in  those  days?" 

"  I  might,  if  it  had  been  made  fashionable 
and  stirred  up  my  curiosity  by  being  talked  of 
in  my  set.  If  some  one  of  the  social  leaders 
had  taken  hold  of  such  an  enterprise,  they  could 
have  drawn  into  it  us  young  girls  who  looked 
up  to  them  as  our  examples." 


A  TEST  APPLIED.  307 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  serve  God  and  mammon," 
said  Uncle  Josiah,  "and  when  a  woman  be- 
comes immersed  in  the  duties  of  philanthropy 
she  has  little  time  for  balls  and  operas  and  card- 
parties  ;  she  is  presently  considered  Puritanical 
and  ceases  to  be  a  social  leader." 

"  Perhaps  some  one  will  arise,"  said  Deborah, 
"who  can  hold  her  social  throne  in  influence, 
because  of  some  commanding  force  and  gran- 
deur in  her  character,  while  at  the  same  time 
she  is  an  enthusiast  in  philanthropic  work. 
Thus  she  will  turn  the  energies  of  girls  of 
wealth  and  leisure  into  the  channels  of  Chris- 
tian service.  When  such  a  one.  arises,  we 
shall  all,  rich  and  poor  working  women,  be  will- 
ing to  sit  at  her  feet.  As  for  me,  uncle,  what  a 
fantasy  of  fairyland  is  this  of  my  ever  again 
having  the  opportunities  of  money !  Why  do 
you  not  ask  me  how  I  will  farm  lands  in  the 
moon,  if  ever  I  hold  any  in  fee  simple  ?" 

"  I  only  wished  to  learn  how  much  you  had 
changed  in  theory  since  you  were  Deborah  the 
unready." 

"  Well,  I  certainly  hope  that  if  it  is  in  me  to 
be  selfish  again  if  I  am  prosperous,  the  Lord 
will  grant  me  only  such  measure  of  prosperity 
as  I  shall  be  capable  of  using  properly." 

The  winter  passed  away  and  February 
brought  the  first  crocus  and  Valentine's  Day. 


308  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Uncle  Josiah  went  away  early,  and  came  home 
at  nightfall,  saying,  "  Deborah,  I  have  news  for 
you." 

"  What  news  ?    From  Leila  ?" 

"  No.  Business  news — news  from  your  fa- 
ther's former  partner.  I  have  six  thousand 
dollars  for  you." 

Deborah  started  to  her  feet.  Once  six  thou- 
sand dollars  would  have  seemed  very  little  to 
the  heiress  of  a  million,  but  now  it  seemed  so 
much !  "  Uncle,  is  it  possible  ?" 

"  It  is  a  fact.  It  is  not  wealth,  but  it  can  be 
good-by  to  Romaine  Court  and  the  shirt-fac- 
tory." 

"  O  uncle !  I  do  not  care  for  that !  Romaine 
Court  is  not  Arcadia,  but  we  live  here  with  tol- 
erable comfort ;  we  have  so  many  advantages 
here  that  our  neighbors  do  not  share.  We  can 
surely  get  along  here  if  others  can.  Unless — 
unless  you  and  Nurse  Jamieson  want  to  get 
away." 

"  Oh  I  like  it  here ;  I  am  doing  some  good 
here,  and  that  is  a  great  matter  for  a  man  who 
has  reached  my  time  of  life,  idle  time." 

"  You  will  never  have  idle  time ;  you  are  a 
born  worker." 

"  And  I  like  living  here  the  noo,  my  lamb," 
said  Nurse  Agnes.  "  Dinna  think  o'  us.  Think 
o'  yersel." 


A  TEST  APPLIED.  309 

"I  shall  think  of  my  girls,"  said  Deborah 
stoutly.  "I  am  young  and  strong  and  unen- 
cumbered. Now  or  never  is  the  time  for  me  to 
do  a  good  work.  I  shall  plant  my  Bureau !  It 
will  be  a  very  humble  little  Bureau  at  first,  with 
only  that  money ;  but  if  it  is  pleasing  to  God  he 
will  make  it  grow." 

"  Consider  carefully,  my  child.  Do  not  be 
rash.  Do  not  do  what  you  may  presently  re- 
gret. Suppose  this  is  your  last  money?" 

"  I  have  myself — hands,  feet,  eyes,  senses. 
Other  women  live  by  the  help  of  their  ten 
fingers,  why  not  I?  Uncle,  it  is  written  that 
'  whoso  putteth  his  hand  to  the  plough  and  look- 
eth  back  is  not  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God.'  " 

"  And  where  shall  the  Bureau  be  planted  ?" 

"  Here  in  this  ward.  If  we  can  get  one  ward 
properly  equipped  for  helping  people  to  help 
themselves,  then  other  wards  may  copy,  and  the 
work  may  spread.  Here  we  have  a  ward  Nursery 
and  a  ward  Settlement,  and  I  will  start  a  ward 
Bureau ;  then  the  city  may  give  us  a  ward  win- 
ter garden.  It  would  not  cost  one-half  of  what 
is  lost  or  stolen  from  the  city  yearly.  Then  we 
should  be  a  well-equipped  ward." 

"  Not  fully  equipped  still.  I  have  a  plan  for 
something  more." 

"  What  is  it,  uncle  ?  tell  me." 

"  In  every  ward  where  there  are  factories  I 


3io  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

want  to  see  a  model  factory,  conducted  on  lib- 
eral Christian  principles.  I  want  not  only  one, 
but  two  or  three,  so  that  people  shall  see  how 
Christian  principle  works  in  business  as  be- 
tween employer  and  employed,  and  so  that 
others  will  follow  the  example." 

"  Rendel  Brothers  have  a  factory  that  is  rap- 
idly reaching  this  ideal  of  a  working  place,  and 
promoting  the  ideal  state  of  feeling  between 
employers  and  employed.  Here  again  our  ward 
is  standing  at  the  forefront  of  experiments  in 
Christian  philanthropy." 

"  That  is  true,  and  by  the  time  Rendel  Bro- 
thers have  perfected  their  plans  and  brought 
the  establishment  up  to  their  ideal,  I  hope  that 
others  will  fall  into  line." 

"It  is  owre  late,"  said  Nurse  Agnes;  "you 
will  be  weary  the  morn,  Miss  Deborah." 

"  This  six  thousand  dollars  makes  for  me  a 
noble  valentine,"  said  Deborah,  "  and  I  shall 
get  to  work  with  it  as  soon  as  I  can,  so  that  I 
may  make  my  Working  Women's  Bureau  an 
Easter  offering  to  my  Lord." 

"  Let  us  have  prayers,"  said  Uncle  Josiah, 
reaching  for  the  Bible,  "  and  we  will  ask  the 
Lord  to  give  us  the  spirit  of  wise  counsel,  so 
that  we  can  plan  in  his  fear  and  by  his  aid, 
and  be  blessed  to  carry  all  our  plans  to  comple- 
tion." 


A  TEST  APPLIED.  3x1 

Probably  there  was  no  girl  in  the  city  who 
felt  as  rich  as  Deborah  Grosvenor  did  that  night. 
When  she  went  to  bed  she  could  not  sleep.  She 
lay  awake  rejoicing,  praying  for  help  to  carry 
out  some  noble  plan,  to  do  well  some  work  for 
God.  All  that  she  asked  was  to  lay  herself  and 
her  little  fortune  on  God's  altar ;  it  is  the  altar 
that  sanctifieth  the  gift.  The  moonlight  fell 
broadly  into  her  room — oh  small,  plain  room, 
that  had  been  to  her  as  a  Bethel !  She  had  "  no 
backward  thoughts  and  no  re  turnings  "  towards 
her  home  of  luxury,  full  of  costly  trifles,  where 
splendor  had  lapped  her  into  forgetfulness  of 
God  and  of  her  fellows.  True,  her  aesthetic 
tastes  had  not  changed ;  she  would  still  have 
enjoyed  beauty  of  form  and  color,  ease,  fra- 
grance, grace  ;  she  would  have  thought  it  right 
to  share  and  use  these  still,  if  God  had  willed  to 
give  them  in  such  measure  that  she  could  use 
without  abuse  and  enjoy  without  selfishness. 
Deprived  of  what  she  had  formerly  possessed, 
she  had  found  a  deeper,  more  engrossing  joy  in 
devoting  herself  to  the  uplifting  of  her  working 
sisters. 

"  The  high  desire  that  others  may  be  blessed 
Savors  of  heaven." 

The  next  evening  there  was  to  be  a  meeting 
in  the  interests  of  working  women  ;  to  some  it 
would  be  a  dry  and  tedious  meeting,  held  by  a 


312          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

committee  which  had  been  investigating  the 
condition  of  working  women,  and  came  armed 
with  abundant  statistics  as  to  homes,  numbers, 
health,  wages,  character,  occupations. 

"  It  is  right,"  said  Deborah  at  the  work-room, 
"  that  you  girls  should  understand  yourselves  as 
a  class ;  you  had  better  go." 

She  went  herself,  taking  Jean,  Bella,  and 
Martha. 

When  the  meeting  was  over,  as  they  came 
back  towards  Romaine  Court — the  girls  going 
joyfully  as  their  dear  Miss  Deborah's  bodyguard 
— "  There 's  a  fire  !"  cried  Jean,  pointing  to  a  red 
glare;  "hark  to  the  engines  and  the  people 
rushing  along  two  streets  beyond !  I  believe  it 
is  near  Mrs.  Bent's.  I  hope  she  wont  be  burned 
out.  She  has  made  her  little  rooms  so  cosey  for 
herself  and  Mabel  and  that  sick  niece  she  takes 
care  of." 

"  Let  us  go  that  way,  keeping  out  of  the 
crowd,"  said  Deborah  anxiously.  "  I  cannot 
bear  to  think  of  such  a  trouble  for  Mrs.  Bent." 

"  It 's  her  block,  sure  enough,"  said  Jean, 
when  they  had  gone  a  few  paces  farther.  "  1 11 
run  on ;  I  'm  so  strong ;  I  may  help  Mrs.  Bent 
while  others  do  n't  think  of  her." 

She  sped  away,  and  Deborah  followed  with 
Martha  and  Bella.  Finally  on  a  corner,  beyond 
the  crowd,  in  a  little  damp  area  before  an  office, 


A  TEST  APPLIED.  313 

lo  a  trunk,  a  chintz-covered  box,  a  bed,  a  few 
quilts,  and,  watching  beside  the  forlorn  heap, 
Mabel  Bent !  "  Oh,  my  dear !"  cried  Deborah. 

Mabel  burst  into  tears;  she  pointed  to  the 
few  goods.  "  It  is  all  we  have  left,"  she  sobbed, 
"  and  our  home  was  so  sweet !" 

The  scene  was  so  pathetic  that  Deborah  and 
her  two  girls  wept  for  sympathy. 

The  fire  roaring  and  leaping,  the  rolls  of 
smoke  dropping  low,  the  swaying  crowds,  the 
flashing  engines,  these  made  up  the  great  pic- 
ture. This  group  of  girls  weeping  over  the  res- 
cued Penates  was  as  the  little  corner-sketch  on 
the  margin  of  an  artist's  proof ! 

"Where  is  your  mother?"  asked  Deborah. 

"  She  is  bringing  Cousin  Molly,  and  Jean  ran 
on  to  help  her." 

A  moment  after  Mrs.  Bent  and  Jean  ap- 
peared carrying  poor  Molly,  but  as  they  almost 
reached  the  corner  an  engine  with  its  accompa- 
nying crowd  whirled  up  the  street  and  Mrs. 
Bent  was  knocked  down.  Impulsively  Deborah 
sprang  forward  to  help  her.  Some  men  carry- 
ing a  ladder  turned  in  the  narrow  space,  and 
Deborah  was  struck  on  the  head.  What  matter  ? 
It  was  only  one  woman  more  fallen  and  tram- 
pled over  in  the  rush  of  life.  Women  should  be 
keepers  at  home  and  not  out  in  such  places ! 

But  as  Deborah  fell,  a  big  lad,  mounted  with 


314          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

the  firemen  on  the  engine,  gave  a  loud  cry, 
"  My  lady !"  and  down  he  flung  himself  and 
pushed  here  and  there  and  had  lifted  Debo- 
rah's unconscious  form  while  Bella  and  Martha 
threw  up  their  arms  and  ran  forward.  It  was 
but  a  minute  or  two,  then  the  little  group  had 
re-collected;  Deborah  was  now  laid  upon  Mrs. 
Bent's  mattress,  supported  by  Jean  and  Oliver, 
Mrs.  Bent  upholding  Molly,  and  all  crying  over 
this  still  rigid  form  that  before  them  had  always 
seemed  so  active,  so  strong,  so  brave,  going  in 
and  out  as  an  angel  of  mercy. 

"  Martha,"  said  Jean,  "  you  run  away  for  a 
doctor  and  on  to  tell  Mistress  Jamieson.  Bella, 
you  look  after  Molly  and  help  Mrs.  Bent  get 
her  and  the  things  to  our  rooms.  Oliver,  you 
and  I  can  carry  our  young  lady  home." 

"  I  could  carry  her  across  the  world  !"  cried 
Oliver,  "if  it  would  do  any  good.  Oh,  Jean, 
wont  she  speak  to  us  more?  She  has  spoken 
to  me  like  a  voice  out  of  heaven !  Is  she 
dead?" 

"  She 's  no  deid,"  said  Jean  sturdily ;  "  what 
wad  we  a'  do  if  she  were  deid  ?  The  Lord  wad- 
na  tak'  her  awa'  fra  sic  a  hantle  o'  poor  fules  as 
we  are,  wha  need  her  sae!" 

The  depth  of  her  emotion  had  rendered  to 
poor  Jean  all  her  Scotch,  and  as  Oliver  observed 
later  to  Bella,  "  Jean  did  not  speak  one  word  of 


A  TEST  APPLIED.  315 

proper  English  all  the  five  days  that  Miss  Gros- 
venor  lay  in  her  bed." 

Uncle  Josiah  was  out  of  town  that  night,  and 
Jean  was  the  mainstay  of  the  occasion  :  she 
fought  furiously  the  proposition  of  the  doctor 
to  take  the  injured  girl  to  a  hospital.  "  Mis- 
tress Jamieson  and  I  can  nurse  her  weel,"  she 
cried  hotly,  "an*  I  hae  twa  hunner  dollars  in 
bank  yet,  o'  my  ain  demeges  money,  an'  I  can 
lay  it  all  oot  in  takin'  tent  o'  her.  She 's  welcome 
to  the  last  penny,  an'  my  life  to  boot !  sae  she 
is!" 

It  was  Jean  who  went  on  foot  through  the 
night,  and  brought  the  best  surgeon  in  the  city 
to  Deborah's  bedside,  forcing  him  to  come  by 
her  tears  and  her  eloquence.  It  was  Jean  who 
sat  statue-like  by  Deborah's  bed,  and  who  took 
no  rest  but  snatches  of  sleep  caught  lying  on 
the  floor  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  It  was  Jean  who 
three  or  four  times  daily  signalled  from  the  win- 
dow with  a  kerchief  to  the  crowd  of  factory  girls 
and  mission  children  who  came  to  get  news  of 
"  their  lady." 

"If  I  wave  a  white  kerchief,  ye  may  ken 
she 's  doin'  weel,"  Jean  had  said,  and  the  ker- 
chief was  always  waved,  and  at  the  end  of  five 
days,  Jean,  almost  hysterical  with  joy,  rushed 
down  to  her  constituents  announcing,  "  She 's 
brawly !  she 's  brawly !  an'  in  five  days  mair 


316          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

we  '11  tak  her  intil  the  kintra,  to  Miss  Stirling  for 
a  little,  an*  then  she  '11  be  amang  us  ance  mair !" 

Deborah,  lying  on  her  little  white  bed,  smiled 
at  Agnes.  "  This  is  all  right,  nurse  dear ;  until 
now  I  have  had  no  experience  of  sickness  or 
pain  ;  now  I  know  what  it  is  among  my  poor." 

And  those  days  had  passed  so  quickly  that 
they  had  scarcely  been  reckoned  ! 


THE  FAIR  FABRIC.  3 1/ 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   FAIR    FABRIC. 

"  And  I  arose,  and  I  released 
The  casement,  and  the  light  increased 
With  freshness  in  the  dawning  east. 

"  I  wondered  at  the  beauteous  hours, 
The  slow  result  of  winter  showers ; 
You  scarce  could  see  the  grass  for  flowers." 

THE  spring  came  and  Deborah  had  made 
ready  her  Easter  offering  to  God — all  that  she 
had,  even  all  her  living,  the  dedicated  six  thou- 
sand dollars. 

Uncle  Josiah  had  scrupulously  left  her  to 
manage  this  Bureau  business  entirely  by  her- 
self ;  he  had  not  helped  her  as  he  had  Jacque- 
line. 

"I  am  not  responsible,"  he  said  to  Nurse 
Agnes,  "for  the  training  of  Miss  Jacqueline 
Day ;  if  as  a  young  lady  she  desires  friendly 
aid  in  her  plans  and  their  execution,  I  am  glad 
to  render  it.  But  this  matter  of  the  Bureau  is  to 
help  educate  Deborah,  and  to  show  what  busi- 
ness talent  she  has,  and  what  the  methods  of 
her  philanthropy  shall  be ;  so  I  shall  not  even 
make  a  suggestion  to  her.  I  shall  restrict  my- 


3i8         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

self  entirely  to  carrying  out  what  she  concludes 
should  be  done." 

Agnes  listened  to  this  discourse  with  admira- 
tion :  she  often  told  herself  that  "  Maister  Josiah 
used  verra  fine  words,  like  to  an  organ.  The 
words  themsel's  she  didna  always  unnerstan', 
but  aye  the  drift  o'  them  ;  and  that  was  the 
main  thing.  There  were  some  preachers," 
Nurse  Agnes  concluded,  "  who  were  the  same  i' 
the  poolpit ;  the  drift  ane  could  unnerstan',  but 
not  a'  the  gey  fine  language  ;  however,  the  drift 
o'  it  was  the  main  thing,  though  fine  words  wi'  a 
gran*  soun*  weel  became  the  grandeur  o'  the 
house  o'  God,  like  the  soun'  o'  an  organ." 

Deborah,  left  to  herself,  sought  out  a  house 
and  found  one  in  Bell  Street,  just  two  blocks 
distant  from  Romaine  Court.  The  house  was 
newer  than  most  of  those  in  the  neighborhood  ; 
it  was  made  of  brick,  with  a  basement  of  four 
rooms,  and  three  stories,  each  with  three  rooms 
and  a  hall.  The  owner  of  this  house  being  in 
need  of  ready  money,  Deborah  purchased  a  five 
years'  lease  from  him  for  twenty-five  hundred 
dollars.  Uncle  Josiah  smiled  to  himself  when  he 
saw  the  carefulness  with  which  Deborah  bar- 
gained, examined  the  title,  had  a  lease  carefully 
drawn  up,  and  the  owner's  insurance  secured  to 
herself  for  such  loss  as  might  accrue  from  fire 
before  her  lease  was  terminated.  "  I  shall  take 


THE   FAIR   FABRIC.  319 

as  good  care  of  the  place  as  I  can,"  said  Deborah, 
"  but  if  it  burns  down  with  two  or  three  years  of 
my  lease  unexpired,  I  cannot  lose  rent  money 
for  all  that  time.  I  must  have  back  out  of  the 
insurance  the  five  hundred  a  year  for  the  unex- 
pired time.  This  is  the  Lord's  money  that  I  am 
spending,  and  I  mean  to  be  a  good  steward." 

The  lease  secured,  Deborah  spent  one  thou- 
sand dollars  on  such  alterations  and  furnishing 
as  she  needed  and  put  in  bank  twenty-two  hun- 
dred dollars,  saying  that  for  five  years  she  should 
spend  five  hundred  a  year  on  the  Bureau. 

"  Why  this  five  years?"  asked  Uncle  Josiah. 

"With  the  most  careful  management,"  said 
Deborah,  "  five  years  are  all  that  I  can  cover  with 
six  thousand  dollars.  And  five  years  will  be 
enough  to  show  whether  my  idea  is  worth  any- 
thing, and  to  reveal  to  me  any  methods  to  make 
the  Bureau  even  partly  self-supporting.  If  at 
the  end  of  five  years  my  Bureau  has  vindicated 
its  raison  d*  etre,  then  perhaps  Leila  or  some  of 
her  friends,  or  some  philanthropist  whom  you 
may  discover,  may  be  ready  to  supply  whatever 
the  Bureau  itself  cannot  supply,  and  so  continue 
the  work.  If  in  five  years  I  do  not  make  it  clear 
that  it  is  a  useful  and  needed  institution,  let  it 
die  a  natural  death." 

"  That  is  sound  sense,"  said  Uncle  Josiah ; 
"  all  such  things  are  experiments  in  their  initia- 


320  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

tive.  We  have  bought  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  we 
go  to  prove  them." 

"  Have  we  any  pieces  of  our  own  furniture 
left  that  will  do  for  the  sitting-room  of  the  Bu- 
reau ?"  asked  Deborah ;  "  are  all  the  goods  from 
the  attic  used  up  ?  Where  did  you  store  them  ?" 

"  In  a  friend's  loft,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "and 
I  think  I  can  find  enough  there  for  the  sitting- 
room.  I  '11  bring  all  now  to  the  Bureau.  There 
is  not  much." 

"  After  work-hours  to-night,"  said  Deborah, 
"you  and  Agnes  and  I  will  go  to  51  Bell  Street, 
and  I  will  show  you  how  I  mean  to  arrange  it. 
I  have  had  the  alterations  made,  and  they  cost 
me  two  hundred  dollars." 

"  So  you  have  eight  hundred  dollars  for  fur- 
nishing?" 

"  Yes ;  and  these  things  that  we  have  here. 
We  can  make  it  do.  Agnes  and  I  will  make  up 
the  bedding  here  on  the  machine." 

Uncle  Josiah  and  Agnes  found  51  Bell  Street 
clean  and  bright,  the  door  and  window-frames 
newly  painted,  and  "  Working  Women's  Bu- 
reau "  in  large  red  and  black  letters,  arching  the 
front-door.  The  basement  of  four  rooms  had 
been  arranged  for  a  kitchen,  dining-room,  and 
laundry,  while  the  fourth  room  had  been  divided 
into  three  bath-rooms.  The  kitchen  had  in  it  a 
range  and  a  large  refrigerator ;  the  laundry 


THE  FAIR  FABRIC. 

three   stationary  tubs,  two  benches,  a  clothes- 
frame,  ironing-table,  and  a  laundry  stove. 

"Now  for  the  first  floor,"  said  Deborah. 
"  This  front  room  is  for  the  office.  Next  behind 
it  is  Nurse  Agnes'  room,  and  behind  that,  this 
room  with  sun  also,  like  the  other  two,  shall 
have  two  beds  in  it  and  be  our  invalids'  room. 
As  Agnes  is  to  superintend  the  office  and  the  in- 
valids, I  put  her  here  between  the  two.  The 
house  is  on  a  southwest  corner,  with  the  hall  on 
the  north  side,  so  we  have  sun  in  all  the  rooms. 
Except  for  the  size  it  is  a  splendid  house  for  my 
purpose ;  and  as  for  size,  why  I  could  not  afford 
to  maintain  a  larger  Bureau  these  first  years. 
Now  come  up  to  the  second  floor.  This  front 
room  is  to  be  our  sitting-room,  next  is  my  room, 
and  the  back  room  is  for  Uncle  Josiah.  Up 
stairs  again  now.  This  front  room  shall  have  a 
double  bed  and  one  single  bed  in  it ;  these  other 
two  rooms  a  double  bed  each,  and  the  hall  you 
see  is  square  at  the  back  and  has  a  good  win- 
dow ;  I  shall  put  a  sewing-machine,  two  chairs, 
and  a  divan  made  of  a  box  to  hold  sewing,  and  it 
shall  be  a  place  for  the  girls  to  do  their  own 
making  and  mending.  I  can  accommodate  seven 
well  girls  and  two  semi-invalids.  A  small  begin- 
ning, but  enough  to  test  the  experiment." 

"  And  what  girls  shall  live  here,  and  why  ?" 
"  Just  girls  who  are  out  of  work,  homeless, 

Mr.  OrocTenor'i  Daughter.          2 1 


322  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

and  have  no  money  to  pay  for  bread.  When 
they  are  provided  for,  they  shall  go  and  leave 
.room  for  others.  They  must  between  them  do 
the  work  of  the  Bureau,  and  they  must  conform 
to  its  rules,  which  shall  be  the  very  fewest  possi- 
ble. I  do  n't  mean  to  help  girls  to  be  idle  or 
lawless,  but  to  help  them  to  be  self-supporting, 
self-respecting,  and  well-respected.  As  I  must 
keep  my  place  as  forewoman,  I  fancy  Agnes 
will  have  the  heavy  end  of  the  business  to  attend 
to,  but  you  wont  mind  that,  will  you,  Agnes  ? 
You  are  strong,  and  it  is  the  kind  of  helping 
work  that  you  love.  You  will  be  completely 
happy  if  you  get  a  pair  of  invalids  under  your 
control  to  pamper  and  cosset  and  make  them 
take  herb-teas  and  rubbing,  eh  !" 

"  Ay,  child,  you  know  what  I  like.  I  winna 
min*  the  work.  It  is  a  true  proverb,  'A  dog 
winna  growl  if  you  fill  him  wi'  a  bone.'  The 
girls  to  tak'  tent  o'  will  be  my  bone." 

"  And  you  know  so  well  how  to  advise  girls 
and  to  take  care  of  them ;  you  are  such  a  nurse, 
Agnes !" 

"  Ay,  '  every  man  at  forty  is  either  a  fool  or 
a  physician.'  It  wad  speak  ill  for  my  observa- 
tion an*  I  could  not  tell  a  few  lassies  what  was 
for  their  guid,"  replied  Agnes,  highly  flattered. 

Two  weeks  after  this  inspection  of  the  house 
all  was  furnished  and  ready  for  possession. 


THE  FAIR  FABRIC.  323 

Jacqueline,  Deborah,  Mary  Field,  and  Hannah 
Lane,  were  running  from  basement  to  third 
story,  inspecting  everything,  merry  and  voluble 
as  a  bevy  of  girls  just  let  loose  from  a  boarding- 
school. 

These  girls,  all  of  whom  had  during  all  their 
lives  enjoyed  more  than  a  competence,  Deborah, 
who  had  floated  on  a  sea  of  golden  luxuries, 
were  in  raptures  over  this  home,  so  rigidly  plain 
in  its  appointments !  Was  there  ever  such  a 
nice  range — just  as  good  as  new,  if  bought  at 
second-hand!  Such  a  convenient  refrigerator, 
and  so  cheap,  because  the  outside  had  been 
marred  by  being  carried  out  from  the  warehouse 
through  a  fire !  "  Even  fires  do  some  folks 
good,"  cried  Hannah.  The  deal  table  was  large, 
snow  white,  spick  and  span  new,  the  three  yel- 
low chairs  were  the  most  admirable  yellow 
chairs  ever  sold  at  fifty  cents  each.  Two  roller- 
towels,  a  big  wash-bowl,  a  row  of  hooks !  How 
the  tin-pans  shone  !  "  And  the  cooking  utensils, 
disposed  on  an  open  shelf  where  they  will  get 
plenty  of  air  and  exhibit  always  their  state  of 
cleanliness,  look  so  housekeeperly,"  said  Jacque- 
line. The  dining-room  had  a  painted  floor,  a 
long  pine  table  covered  with  a  brown  linen 
cloth,  twelve  chairs  at  fifty  cents  each,  and  an 
arm-chair  for  Uncle  Josiah.  There  was  a  side- 
table  with  a  pretty  scarf;  over  the  two  front 


324  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

windows  was  trained  a  parlor  ivy,  and  in  one 
of  the  side  windows  stood  three  pots  of  gerani- 
ums in  bloom. 

O  dining-room  of  the  house  of  Dives,  where 
the  walls  were  painted  by  an  artist  imported 
from  Italy,  the  furniture  was  the  richest  that 
could  be  had,  the  side-board  was  loaded  with 
plate  and  cut  glass,  all  the  linen  was  embroi- 
dered with  a  monogram,  and  long  mirrors  made 
the  vista  of  aviary  and  conservatory  that  opened 
from  one  end  of  the  room  seem  endless ! 

Dives'  daughters  found  this  little  dining-room 
in  the  Working  Women's  delightful,  even  with 
such  gorgeous  halls  of  banquet  in  their  mem- 
ories! 

"  Three  bath-rooms !  how  nice !"  cried  Mary 
Field,  "  and  I  see  this  one  is  for  yourself, 
Deborah ;  that  is  a  good  idea ;  we  have  found 
it  so  in  our  Settlement ;  humoring  some  of  our 
little  personal  notions  of  taste  will  do  more 
than  indulgence  in  luxuries  to  keep  up  our 
health  and  courage  while  we  do  this  work." 

Then  the  office  was  admired :  a  desk,  a  little 
rocking-chair  for  Deborah,  a  large  easy-chair  for 
Agnes,  a  table,  a  couple  of  shelves  of  books, 
some  chairs,  a  work-basket,  a  City  Directory, 
Postal  Directory,  a  Dictionary,  a  Bible,  on  the 
table,  a  grate  with  an  open  fire. 

"  That 's  for  good  ventilation,"  said  Deborah ; 


THE   FAIR   FABRIC.  32$ 

"  if  Agnes  Is  to  sit  here  all  day,  she  must  have 
it  as  healthful  and  comfortable  as  possible." 

The  sitting-room  had  muslin  curtains,  a  large 
rug,  a  Franklin  stove,  a  corner  book-case,  a  few 
pictures,  a  bracket  with  a  Rogers  statuette  upon 
it,  some  stools  which  Deborah  had  made  from 
little  boxes  and  upholstery  cloth,  a  table  with  a 
handsome  cover.  Most  of  these  things  Uncle 
Josiah  had  brought  as  the  last  relics  from  the 
wreck  of  the  house  of  Dives. 

Deborah's  room  was  white,  simple,  pretty, 
and  when  she  opened  it  she  herself  exclaimed 
with  surprise,  for  Leila  had  sent  her  a  beautiful 
wash-stand  set,  a  quilt  of  silk  and  down  for  the 
bed,  mull  curtains  and  shams,  and  a  delightful 
chair,  converting  the  plainness  of  the  room  to 
real  beauty.  "  Beside  my  elegant  room,"  said 
Deborah,  laughing,  as  she  threw  open  the  next 
door,  "  Uncle  Josiah 's  looks  very  plain." 

"Iron  camp  bedstead,  rug,  two  camp-chairs, 
wash-stand,  bureau,  table,"  inventoried  Han- 
nah; "  he  is  no  worse  off  than  the  late  King  of 
Prussia.  If  I  remember  rightly  his  Majesty  did 
not  have  so  much  in  his  bed-room." 

"At  all  events  it  is  just  as  Uncle  Josiah 
wants  to  have  it." 

The  stairs  and  the  hall  floors  were  bare, 
stained  and  varnished ;  the  rooms  for  the  girls 
had  window-shades,  iron  bedsteads  with  knotted 


326          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

blue  counterpanes,  each  a  wash-stand  with  three 
large  drawers,  bureau-fashion,  a  table  and  look- 
ing-glass, and  three  chairs.  Simple,  even  bare, 
but  airy,  sunny,  and  spotlessly  clean,  and  com- 
fortably warmed  in  cold  weather  by  the  furnace 
which  heated  halls  and  stairways. 

Finally  "the  hospital"  room  with  its  two 
single  beds,  its  rugs  and  pretty  pictures  and 
flowered  muslin  curtains,  was  visited. 

"  I  wanted  this  to  be  pretty,"  said  Deborah, 
"  so,  as  I  had  to  have  the  walls  kalsomined  for 
health's  sake,  I  had  a  border  of  roses  put  around 
the  top  and  a  centre  oval  of  roses  in  the  ceiling, 
and  used  this  flowered  scrim  for  draperies.  I 
think  it  looks  really  cheerful  and  refreshing. 
Leila  sent  me  this  pair  of  pretty  vases,  and  this 
pair  of  engravings — '  Mercy  at  the  Wicket 
Gate,'  and  '  Pilgrim  talking  to  Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity.'  Sick  people  need  pretty  things  to 
cheer  them.  All  our  dishes  are  the  commonest 
white  stone  ware,  but  I  bought  a  few  with  pink 
flowers  and  edges,  to  send  up  here  for  the  sick 
ones.  The  girls  who  are  worn  out  and  out  of 
work  are  so  low-spirited,  poor  souls,  they  need 
something  to  divert  their  minds  and  entertain 
them." 

"She  thinks  of  everything,  my  Miss  Debo- 
rah," said  Agnes,  who  stood  with  beaming  face 
behind  the  inspecting  group.  "  She  is  her  grand- 


THE    FAIR   FABRIC.  327 

mither  o  'er  again,  and  I  always  said  it.  Come 
and  see  what  a  nice  sntig  room  she  has  made 
for  an  old  body  like  me.  She  knew  well  I  did- 
na  care  for  new  fangled  notions  like  scarfs  and 
posies,  but  it  is  all  snug  and  convenient,  with 
my  work-bag  and  my  Bible  handy,  and  a  stool 
for  my  feet,  and  a  bureau  wi'  boxes,  so  I  can 
keep  the  bit  things  I  loe  best." 

"  It  is  all  complete,  and  done  on  so  little 
money !"  cried  Mary. 

"  Deborah,  you  are  an  organizing  genius ; 
you  should  have  control  of  large  funds  and  ad- 
minister a  great  work." 

"  If  she  should,  she  would,"  said  Uncle  Jo- 
siah  ;  "  if  the  Lord  saw  that  she  was  the  one 
for  such  a  place,  she  would  have  the  place." 

"  The  Lord  saw  that  I  was  an  unprofitable 
steward,"  said  Deborah ;  "I  hid  my  Lord's 
money,  never  put  it  to  any  use,  and  so  he  finally 
took  it  away.  If  I  have  this  ability  for  service, 
it  is  all  the  more  pity  that  I  did  not  use  it  when 
I  might." 

"  If  you  had  it,  it  was  only  as  seed ;  it  needed 
the  sun  and  rain  of  circumstance  to  develop  it. 
The  wind  beats  the  trees  and  the  plants,  and  we 
think  it  will  destroy  them,  but  lo,  it  is  only  un- 
rolling the  leaves,  not  stripping  them  off." 

They  had  all  gone  up  to  the  sitting-room, 
and  Uncle  Josiah,  leaning  back  in  the  large 


328          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

easy-chair  that  had  once  served  his  brother 
Dives,  talked  as  he  loved  to  talk.  "  My  dear 
girls,  to-morrow  you  will  see  the  churches  full  of 
flowers ;  if  you  should  go  out  into  the  country 
you  would  see  the  grass  starred  with  dande- 
lions, hawks-weed,  blue  violets,  hyacinths,  anem- 
ones, phlox,  spring  beauties,  millions  of  flowers, 
so  that  every  roadside  and  pasture  seems  like  a 
garden.  This  is  the  slow  result  of  winter  frost 
and  showers!  So  God  makes  some  barren 
hearts  soft  and  fruitful  with  the  frosts  of  pov- 
erty and  the  showers  of  sorrow,  that  they  may 
bloom  for  his  delight.  Look  at  Deborah !  I  am 
afraid  that,  though  she  is  now  popular,  once  you 
used  to  call  her  '  proud  Miss  Grosvenor,'  '  cold 
Miss  Grosvenor,'  even  '  disagreeable  Miss  Gros- 
venor.' " 

Jacqueline  burst  into  a  merry  laugh,  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  friend  said, 
"  Deborah !  I  confess  that  is  just  what  I  did 
call  you !  Say  that  you  forgive  me,  dear !" 

Deborah  gave  one  of  her  rare,  brilliant 
smiles.  "  I  was  so  lazy,  bored,  indifferent,  that 
you  should  have  called  me  '  that  detestable  Miss 
Grosvenor !'" 

"Tell  us,  Deborah,  what  are  your  lines  of 
work  here,"  said  Mary. 

"  I  shall  make  friends  with  the  press,  and  en- 
list the  papers  in  defence  of  my  working-girls. 


THE  FAIR  FABRIC.  329 

I  shall  bring  worn-out  shop-girls,  or  feeble  con- 
valescents just  out  of  hospital,  here  for  nurse  to 
coddle.  I  want  you  all  to  spread  the  new/* 
among  your  friends  that  sewing-girls  and  nurse 
maids,  possibly  a  nursery  governess  or  so,  welv 
recommended  and  investigated,  may  be  found 
here.  Girls  thrown  out  of  work  penniless  shall 
have  refuge  here  and  be  helped  to  places ;  wo- 
men robbed  nefariously  of  furniture,  sewing- 
machines,  wages,  may  bring  their  cases  here  to 
be  investigated  and  a  just  settlement  be  ob- 
tained. One  thing  I  am  resolved  upon :  I  myself, 
my  former  wealth,  friends,  and  position,  shall 
not  be  talked  about  and  published  about  in  this 
connection.  My  work,  my  time,  my  little 
money,  myself,  I  give  here,  but  the  privacy  of 
my  individuality  I  mean  to  have  respected.  I 
do  n't  want  to  be  a  nine  days'  wonder,  in  default 
of  something  else  for  the  public  to  talk  about." 

"  Miss  Deborah,"  said  Nurse  Jamieson,  pull- 
ing her  young  lady's  sleeve,  "  what  time  is  for 
the  tea-party  the  night  ?" 

"  Seven,"  said  Deborah. 

"  What  fashionable  company  are  you  going 
to  have  at  that  hour?"  demanded  Hannah 
Lane. 

"Working  women  who  work  until  six  and 
must  have  time  to  go  home  and  put  on  their 
best  array.  Three  girls  are  to  come  here,  one 


330          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

from  a  hospital  and  two  who  are  out  of  places : 
they  will  begin  our  family,  and  that  our  table 
may  be  full  for  a  housewarming,  I  have  invited 
Jean,  Martha,  Bella,  Nan,  Mrs.  Hodge  and  her 
niece,  Oliver  and  two  other  boys,  to  come  to  sup- 
per, a  royal  spread  of  Nurse  Jamieson's  rolls, 
boiled  corn-beef,  ginger-bread,  apple-sauce,  and 
pickles.  We  shall  not  be  so  lavish  usually,  but 
this  is  '  infair-day,'  as  Agnes  calls  it.  After  the 
supper  and  some  talk  and  singing  I  am  to 
read  them  a  story,  and  then  Uncle  Josiah  will 
have  prayers  and  send  them  off  by  ten.  Did 
you  observe  that  I  had  a  lovely  pot  of  ferns  on 
the  middle  of  the  dining  table  ?  Leila  sent  that 
for  my  party." 

"That  boy  Oliver  is  becoming  a  very  pre- 
sentable lad  under  your  administration,"  said 
Mary  Field ;  "he  has  a  good  physique,  a  pair  of 
honest  eyes  and  a  friendly  smile ;  he  carries  him- 
self like  a  self-respecting  fellow.  You  've  made 
a  man  of  him." 

"  Next  year  he  is  to  be  promoted  to  be  a  fore- 
man of  the  packing  room,  and  get  four  hundred 
dollars  a  year,"  said  Deborah.  "  He  is  planning 
to  find  a  little  three  or  four  room  house  out  in 
the  suburbs,  where  his  mother  can  find  work 
for  neighboring  families  and  his  little  half- 
brother  can  be  brought  up  free  from  the  dangers 
of  sidewalk-schools  in  the  city.  If  his  aunt 


THE  FAIR  FABRIC.  331 

Hodge  cannot  find  housework  near  their  new 
home  she  will  come  in  to  the  rubber-factory 
when  Oliver  comes  to  his  work.  She  gets  five 
dollars  and  a  half  a  week." 

"  Leaves  her  three  seventy-five  when  her  car- 
fare is  paid,"  said  Mary. 

"Yes,  but  count  quiet  and  fresh  air  some- 
thing," said  Deborah. 


332          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THROUGH  HONOR  AND  DISHONOR. 

"  The  old  order  changeth,  giving  place  to  new, 
And  God  fulfils  himself  in  many  ways, 
Lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt  the  world." 

"  FIVE  hundred  a  year,  and  the  housework 
done  by  the  girls ;  this  would  not  support  the 
Bureau,  with  its  family  of  ten  or  twelve,  even  if 
they  were  fed  with  the  utmost  plainness,"  said 
Uncle  Josiah  to  himself.  "  What  will  she  do 
about  it  ?" 

He  did  not  suggest  the  problem  to  Deborah  ; 
he  waited  and  left  her  to  take  her  own  way 
about  it,  watching  as  one  who  watches  a  crucial 
experiment  in  a  laboratory.  Deborah  also  had 
seen  the  need  of  additional  income  for  her 
Bureau. 

"  The  girls  who  live  in  the  house  should  work 
for  their  maintenance,"  she  said  to  Jacqueline, 
"  and  seven  of  them,  or  nine  if  you  count  two  in 
the  hospital  room,  who  are  generally  well  enough 
to  do  something,  can  get  through  with  our  plain 
housework  with  about  two  hours'  work  a  day,  or 
even  less.  Given  then  an  hour  and  a  half  each 
daily  for  their  own  washing,  making,  and  mend- 


THROUGH   HONOR  AND  DISHONOR.          333 

ing,  with  the  evening  free  for  recreation  or 
classes,  they  should  each  give  three  or  four  hours 
to  some  kind  of  income-bringing  work.  This 
also  will  give  them  a  habit  of  independence 
and  show  them  some  fresh  avenues  of  self-sup- 
port." 

But  at  first  Deborah  found  that  getting 
work  to  be  done  at  her  Bureau  was  not  easy. 
She  was  at  once  regarded  as  a  "  middle  man," 
and  all  the  "sweaters"  leagued  against  her: 
where  factories  would  give  home-work  to  one  or 
two,  as  soon  as  work  for  seven  or  eight  was  men- 
tioned a  new  factory  was  suspected,  and  "  We 
keep  our  work  for  our  own  hands,"  was  the 
answer  made  to  her.  She  came  too  upon  un- 
expected obstacles  in  this  search  for  "home 
work." 

She  applied  at  a  small  establishment  where 
seven  or  eight  knitting-machines  were  constant- 
ly turning  out  stockings  and  underwear.  All  ar- 
ticles that  came  from  the  machines  must  be  care- 
fully looked  over,  dropped  stitches  taken  up, 
buttons  and  button-holes  provided,  and  buckles 
put  on.  This  finishing  work,  ill  paid  as  she 
knew  it  must  be,  would  yet  be  a  help  in  earning 
the  home  income. 

But  Deborah  was  told  that  there  was  no 
work  to  give  out,  and  one  of  the  women  who 
superintended  the  others,  and  also  ran  a  knit- 


334  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ting-machine,  explained  it  to  her  as  they  walked 
away  from  the  establishment.  This  was  Stella 
whom  Deborah  had  known  in  the  rubber-goods 
factory,  and  as  Deborah  had  gone  to  the  knit- 
goods  establishment  about  six  in  the  afternoon, 
when  her  own  work  at  Rendel  Brothers  was 
over,  she  and  Stella  walked  away  together. 

"  You  see  it  is  this  way,"  said  Stella.  "  The 
owners  of  this  place  are  not  rich,  and  the  girls 
who  are  their  relations  and  acquaintances  are 
not  rich.  They  live  at  home  and  are  supported 
comfortably  by  their  friends  ;  but  if  one  of  them 
wanted  a  watch  or  a  pair  of  bracelets  or  a 
guitar  or  a  handsome  satin  dress,  why  it  is  be- 
yond the  means  of  her  friends,  and  so  she  earns 
it,  and  her  way  is  to  take  our  goods  and  finish 
them.  Every  bit  of  our  finishing  is  done  by 
girls  who  are  in  comfortable  circumstances,  and 
who  earn  money  only  for  ornaments  or  luxuries. 
I  know  one  young  lady  who  said  in  the  shop 
that  she  had  bought  a  fifty-dollar  gold  chain 
with  her  earnings  for  nearly  a  year ;  and  another 
is  saving  to  get  sixty  dollars  for  ear-rings.  An- 
other bought  finger-rings." 

"  How  absurd  !"  cried  Deborah. 

"  And  it  takes  away  work  that  poor  women 
who  stay  at  home  with  babies  are  in  desperate 
need  of." 

"  And  yet  what  can  be  done  about  it  ?      If 


THROUGH  HONOR  AND  DISHONOR.  335 

these  girls  choose  to  do  the  work  they  have  a 
right  to  ask  for  it,  and  the  employers  have  a 
right  to  give  it  to  them  ;  and  the  use  made  of 
the  money  is  not  a  matter  in  question.  An  em- 
ployer cannot  ask,  '  Are  you  going  to  pay  your 
rent  or  feed  your  children  or  buy  ear-rings  with 
these  wages  ?' " 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  Stella,  who  was  a  very 
intelligent  woman.  "Yet  these  girls  who  do 
not  need  to  pay  rent  or  buy  bread  or  shoes, 
who  can  save  and  can  afford  to  wait  for  the 
money  for  unnecessaries,  take  work  at  lower 
figures  than  the  rest  of  us  can,  and  so  they  lower 
the  rate  of  wages.  They  can  earn  two  and  a 
half  or  three  dollars  a  week,  and  at  the  end  of  a 
month  they  will  have  ten  or  twelve  dollars  in 
hand.  We  must  get  our  four  fifty  or  five  a  week  ; 
and  scrape  and  save  as  best  we  may,  at  the 
end  of  the  month  we  are  well  off  if  we  have  a 
dollar  in  hand.  Their  friends  help  them ;  we 
have  to  help  support  our  friends,  and  it  makes 
a  heap  of  difference.  I  do  n't  see  how  it  can  be 
helped,  but  it  is  hard." 

Deborah  explained  why  she  wanted  this  work 
and  asked  Stella  to  come  over  to  the  Bureau  and 
take  tea  and  see  what  was  going  on  there.  As 
they  went  towards  Bell  Street,  Stella  suggested 
that  Deborah  might  get  the  bags  of  a  certain 
flour-mill  to  mend,  and  perhaps  to  make.  "  Only 


336          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

you  would  need  a  single-threaded  machine  that 
carries  a  thread  like  string,"  she  said. 

"  I  do  not  think.  I  had  better  buy  a  machine 
just  for  that.  I  need  income  at  once,  not  further 
outlay." 

"You  can  mend  the  bags  on  the  machine 
that  you  have  with  the  coarsest  thread  and 
needle  that  it  will  carry.  And  I  think  your  uncle 
could  get  you  the  contract.  Then  why  don't 
you  try  the  express  and  freight  tag  business  ?" 

"  Firstly,  because  I  never  heard  of  it." 

"  You  know  those  oblong  tickets  of  thin  brown 
paste-board,  with  two  corners  clipped  off,  that  are 
used  to  tag  freight  and  express  parcels  ?  Millions 
of  them  are  used  each  year.  They  are  stamped 
out  by  machinery,  and  put  in  packets  of  one  or 
two  hundred.  Then  they  must  have  the  rivet 
or  eyelet-hole  punched  in  and  eyeletted,  and  a 
piece  of  string  knotted  through  the  eyelet.  Tags, 
eyelets,  and  string  are  sent  you.  Your  capital 
must  be  one  shoe -maker's  eyelet -punch  for 
each  two  workers — one  girl  eyelets,  one  ties. 
The  pay  is  small,  but  it  is  quite  easy  work,  and 
your  girls  could  do  a  good  many.  But  in  that, 
Miss  Grosvenor,  as  in  all  the  rest  that  is  capable 
of  being  made  decent  home-work,  you  '11  find  the 
competition  strong  from  girls  who  are  comfort- 
ably off  and  are  only  earning  luxuries  or  pocket 
money." 


THROUGH   HONOR  AND   DISHONOR.  337 

After  Stella  had  taken  tea  at  the  Bureau 
and  had  examined  everything,  she  said  to  Deb- 
orah, "It  is  a  splendid  idea :  in  the  end  it  will 
prove  to  be  just  what  we  need,  and  you  will 
be  thanked  and  praised.  But  at  first  be  sure 
you  will  be  suspected  and  blamed." 

"  For  what,  of  what  ?"   demanded  Deborah. 

"  As  soon  as  the  girls  find  they  are  doing  a 
little  work,  no  matter  how  little  it  is,  for  which 
the  Bureau  gets  the  pay,  they  will  begin  to 
shout  '  slave  labor,' '  apprentice  work,'  '  grinding 
down,'  and  so  on.  They  will  not  think  board, 
fuel,  rent,  lights,  health,  baths,  laundry,  worth  a 
dollar  a  week,  but  every  dozen  of  tags  or  mill- 
bags  done  for  you  will  seem  to  be  worth  at  least 
fifty  cents.  They  will  be  miserably  ungrateful, 
because  they  have  been  brought  up  in  a  hard 
way  without  any  exercise  of  gratitude.  Then 
too  the  priests  and  the  Sisters  will  no  doubt 
raise  a  cry  of  '  proselyting.' 

"  Some  of  them  will  see  that  the  work  is  good 
and  will  silently  appreciate  it.  But  many  of 
them  will  think  that  the  religious  life  of  your 
Bureau,  your  blessing  at  table,  family  prayers, 
Bible  -  classes,  evening  instruction,  will  lessen 
the  faith  of  their  members  who  fall  into  your 
hands,  and  they  will  oppose  you.  More  than 
that,  they  may  suspect  that  business  people 
and  charitable  people  will  like  your  Bureau, 

Mr.  Grosvenor's  Daughter.     22 


338          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

substantially  like  it  in  money,  groceries,  and  dry- 
goods,  and  that  all  this  will  be  so  much  less  for 
the  Sisters  making  quest ;  so  they  will  spread 
ugly  reports  about  you." 

"  I  shall  make  friends  with  the  newspapers 
and  the  police." 

"  That  will  be  all  right.  But  the  poor  folks 
around  you,  the  girls,  will  not  see  the  papers ;  they 
will  be  more  or  less  affected  by  this  whispered 
scandal  and  criticism.  It  is  easy  for  human 
nature  to  take  stock  in  evil  reports ;  we  are  slow 
to  use  our  own  observation,  it  is  so  easy  to  pick 
up  a  '  they  say.' ' 

"  I  see.  I  shall  have  some  opposition  I  did 
not  count  on.  Excuse  me,  Stella.  I  did  not 
know  you  very  well  at  the  rubber-goods  place, 
and  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  an  educated 
girl  as  your  language  shows  that  you  are." 

"  I  graduated  at  a  high-school  and  had  a 
year  at  a  Normal-school.  I  was  once  a  nursery 
governess.  I  married  young ;  my  husband  was 
captain  of  a  coasting  schooner.  He  was  drowned. 
Fifteen  hundred  dollars  came  to  me  finally  from 
his  insurances,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
educate  our  little  son  out  of  that  and  give  him  a 
good  trade  as  he  should  choose.  He  is  a  very 
bright  boy  now  and  nine  years  old.  My  sister  is 
married  to  a  barber,  and  my  boy  and  I  board 
with  her  and  she  takes  care  of  him  while  I  work. 


THROUGH   HONOR  AND   DISHONOR.  339 

I  send  him  into  the  country  to  some  friends 
every  vacation. 

"  After  the  rubber-factory  proved  dangerous 
to  my  health  I  succeeded  in  finding  this  knit- 
ting establishment.  By  being  very  careful  I 
make  four  dollars  and  a  half  a  week,  and  my 
little  interest  does  for  the  two  of  us." 

"  I  hope  your  boy  will  grow  up  to  be  a  noble 
Christian  man,  and  repay  you  for  all  this  love 
and  sacrifice." 

"  I  am  sure  he  will :  I  keep  my  courage  up  by 
planning  for  a  quiet  happy  old  age,  nursing  my 
grandchildren  in  his  home,"  said  Stella  with  a 
bright  smile.  "  Now  I  think  of  it,  suppose  you 
try  to  get  jackets  to  finish  from  a  Cardigan 
jacket  factory.  Any  one  can  do  that." 

Finally,  between  bags,  tags,  and  jackets,  Deb- 
orah secured  an  income  of  about  ten  dollars  a 
week  for  her  Bureau,  as  the  result  of  two  hun- 
dred hours'  work,  at  about  five  cents  an  hour,  and 
this  was  very  munificent  wages,  and  only 
secured  by  piece  -  work  in  such  conditions  of 
rooms,  good  air,  light,  tools,  as  the  workers 
could  never  get  in  their  own  homes.  Especially 
was  the  rapidity  of  work  a  result  of  the  trained 
brains  of  Uncle  Josiah  and  Deborah,  showing 
the  girls  how  to  work  together  helpfully,  and 
securing  a  new  kind  of  work  as  soon  as  some 
other  kind  had  failed. 


34Q          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Five  cents  an  hour  !  Who  could  complain  of 
such  wages !  The  earner  of  five  cents  an  hour 
must  be  simply  rolling  in  the  lap  of  luxury ! 
Five  cents  an  hour  yielded  fifty  cents  a  day 
for  ten  hours'  work,  or  sixty  cents  for  twelve 
hours.  Fourteen  hours  of  daily  work  will  at 
this  rate  yield  four  dollars  and  twenty  cents  a 
week !  When  a  woman  has  only  seventy-five 
cents  a  week  to  pay  for  rent,  forty  cents  a  week 
for  light  and  fuel  for  her  long  hours'  work,  if 
she  spends  on  her  food  fifteen  cents  a  day,  she 
can  have  a  dollar  ninety  cents  a  week  for  clothes 
and  shoes,  for  lost  time  and  sickness. 

Fifteen  cents  a  day  for  food  is  a  short  al- 
lowance, and  admits  of  but  little  use  of  meat, 
butter,  or  fruit.  When  we  consider  that  the 
women  who  are  reduced  to  living  upon  this 
small  amount  do  not  as  a  general  thing  under- 
stand the  relative  values  of  food-stuffs,  and  have 
neither  the  knowledge  nor  the  appliances  of 
judicious,  healthful  preparation  of  plain  food, 
the  problem  becomes  still  more  distressing. 

Thirty-seven  lost  working-days  in  a  year  are 
a  heavy  item.  The  kitchen  servant  in  general 
loses  more,  but  the  conditions  of  her  life  as  to 
exercise,  rest,  food,  warmth,  sleep,  and  ventila- 
tion are  very  much  better  than  those  of  the  fac- 
tory girls  or  wage-earners  of  that  class. 

Besides  there  are  many  days  of  enforced  idle- 


THROUGH   HONOR  AND  DISHONOR,  341 

ness,  there  are  the  well-known  "  slack  seasons." 
"  No  work  to-day,"  "  Only  half  work  this  week," 
"  Can't  afford  over  half  pay  this  month,"  "  Mark- 
et glutted  " — these  are  remarks  that  often  greet 
the  working  woman  as  she  goes  for  her  share  of 
work. 

Did  Eve  ever  dream  as  she  stood  listening 
to  that  curse  of  labor  and  sweat  falling  upon 
Adam,  that  the  heaviest  half  of  it  was  likely  to 
be  heired  by  her  daughters,  and  that  as  the 
ages  went  by  these  same  daughters  should  be 
holding  out  imploring  hands  for  the  share  of 
the  curse,  and  weeping  miserably  when  it  was 
denied  ?  If  the  first  mother  had  with  prophetic 
soul  divined  all  that,  how  would  she  have  marvel- 
led at  the  strangeness  of  her  children's  destiny ! 

In  her  Bureau  Deborah  met  all  the  antag- 
onism that  Stella  had  foretold  to  her.  She 
found  also  the  silent  antagonism  of  neglect. 
Plenty  of  people  were  told  of  the  Bureau,  and 
asked  to  further  its  plans  by  going  there  if  they 
needed  to  secure  work  done.  And  by-and-by 
when  asked  if  they  had  done  their  little  to  aid 
in  the  way  of  patronage,  the  answer  would  be, 
"  Oh,  we  quite  forgot  it !"  "  Bell  Street  is  so 
out  of  the  way."  "We  lost  the  address  you 
wrote  for  us-."  "  We  are  so  in  the  habit  of 
going  to  the  shops,  and  to  the  other  intelligence 
offices."  "  Yes ;  but  you  see  it  would  be  so  trou- 


342  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

blesome  to  have  sewing  done  in  the  house.  It  is 
much  easier  just  to  go  and  buy  the  things  ready 
made,  and  really  cheaper." 

Cheaper !  Yes,  that  is  it.  Cheaper !  Oh 
Moloch  of  the  age !  Then  how  often  was  Deb- 
orah disappointed  in  the  girls  themselves.  Some 
came  to  her  protesting  even  with  tears  their  pov- 
erty, lack  of  home,  of  friends,  of  work.  They 
would  do  anything,  take  anything.  But  put  to 
the  proof,  "Would  they  go  out  to  service?" 
"No!  Not  for  any  wages.  They  were  inde- 
pendent :  they  would  not  have  a  mistress  over 
them." 

Then  those  who  with  meek  faces  and  ready 
assent  would  receive  moral  advice,  warnings 
against  bad  books,  bad  men  of  their  acquaintance, 
and  loose  bold  ways,  would  with  perhaps  a  little 
more  slyness  continue  their  objectionable  meth- 
ods. Lying  and  hypocrisy  were  so  common 
among  them,  and  those  were  faults  very  detesta- 
ble to  a  woman  of  Deborah's  frank  courageous 
nature.  The  duplicity  of  many  of  her  prote'ge'es 
made  her  heart-sick. 

"  But  what  would  you  have  ?"  said  Uncle 
Josiah.  "  They  have  been  reared  in  deceitful- 
ness  from  infancy ;  their  parents  before  them 
lived  in  conditions  fitted  to  nourish  the  faults  of 
hypocrisy  and  double  dealing.  Weeds  grow  in 
uncultivated  ground,  but  garden  flowers  do  not, 


THROUGH  HONOR  AND  DISHONOR.          343 

and  if  they  spring  in  waste  places  they  speed- 
ily dwindle  and  degrade.  Do  n't  ask  too  much 
virtue ;  be  thankful  to  find  the  few  sturdy  vir- 
tues that  there  are  among  these  girls.  Most  of 
them  are  generous,  faithful  to  each  other — piti- 
ful to  the  suffering,  courageous,  hopeful,  in- 
dustrious. Go  and  help  them  up :  do  n't  com- 
plain because  they  are  not  already  up.  Be  glad 
of  what  you  can  get  at  present." 

"  It  is  true,  my  dearie,"  said  Nurse  Agnes, 
when  she  saw  Deborah  discouraged  and  mourn- 
ful, "it  is  true  that  there  is  mickle  ill  in  the 
warl',  an'  it  crops  out  pretty  plain  hereabout. 
This  hoose  ye  hae  opened  has  drawn  intil  it 
some  who  are  no'  worthy,  an'  the  worthy  are  too 
shamefaced  to  come.  When  I  was  a  lass  I 
heard  this  proverb,  '  Fiddlers'  dogs  an'  flees 
comes  to  a  feast  uncalled.'  But  ne'er  grow 
weary  o'  spreadin'  the  feast  for  a'  that. 

"  By-and-by  ye  will  learn  to  discern  between 
those  that  you  should  help  and  those  that  do 
not  really  need  the  help.  Do  not  be  discour- 
aged because  these  lassies  ha'  never  been  taught 
that  it  is  '  aye  weel  to  be  the  same  thing  that 
ye  would  be  called.'  One  by  one  ye  will  fin' 
the  Lord  jewels  i'  the  mire  and  gaither  them 
out  for  his  crown  ;  and  they  will  be  your  crown 
o'  rejoicing  too  in  that  great  day." 

"You  find  some  troublesome  ones  and  some 


344         MR-  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

naughty  ones,"  said  Uncle  Josiah ;  "  but  think 
of  the  good  ones.  Think  of  little  Mrs.  Howe. 
Is  not  she  worth  knowing  ?" 

Deborah  smiled.  Dear  little  Mrs.  Howe ! 
They  had  dubbed  her  the  "Good  Samaritan," 
a  brisk,  withered  hale  old  woman,  living  on  a 
pension  of  twelve  dollars  a  month.  She  also 
had  been  rent-free  from  the  landlord  of  her 
house,  who  said  she  was  "  worth  as  much  to  him 
as  two  Bible  women  and  a  policeman,"  so  did 
she  maintain  the  peace  and  show  how  to  eke 
out  income,  so  did  she  succeed  in  keeping  peo- 
ple in  work  and  in  heart — showing  the  best  way 
of  doing  things,  nursing  the  sick,  tending  the 
children,  going  about  doing  good  from  morning 
until  night.  "  She  has  stopped  four  or  five 
epidemics  by  her  good  sense.  She  is  worth  a 
whole  Board  of  Health,"  said  the  district  doctor. 

Thirty  years  of  active  self-sacrificing  toil 
had  endeared  the  brisk  little  old  lady  to  all  her 
neighborhood.  There  were  wives  and  mothers 
there  whom  she  had  nursed  as  children.  Even 
in  that  shifting  population  she  had  seen  men 
and  women  grow  up  from  childhood  or  stoop 
from  middle  life  to  age.  How  had  this  living 
Christian  commended  Christianity ! 

Deborah  felt  as  if  a  strong  helper  had  come 
to  her  the  first  time  that  Mrs.  Howe  crossed  her 
threshold.  What  a  close  friendship  she  and 


THROUGH   HONOR  AND  DISHONOR.  34$ 

Nurse  Jamieson  struck  up,  as  they  sat  for  hours 
discussing  how  this  one  should  be  helped  toward 
good,  and  that  one  hindered  from  evil,  and  how 
by-and  by  the  work  here  should  all  be  ended, 
and  the  city  of  the  King  reached  with  rejoicing. 

And  so  the  days  went  on,  in  hope  and  dis- 
appointment, in  much  seed-sowing  and  some 
little  reaping,  in  an  increasing  triumph  over  the 
first  difficulties  of  the  position ;  and  now  Deb- 
orah's Bureau  had  been  open  for  a  year,  and 
she  and  her  work  were  becoming  better  under- 
stood. 

What  had  this  ward  gained  since  first  Deb- 
orah became  one  of  its  swarming  inhabitants  ? 
There  was  a  factory  conducted  on  liberal  prin- 
ciples, trying  in  every  way  to  benefit  the  em- 
ploy ^es ;  there  was  a  Day  Nursery,  the  Set- 
tlement, and  the  Working  Women's  Bureau. 
Were  all  these  instrumentalities  doing  any  good  ? 
Was  the  ward  improving  ?  The  policemen,  the 
police  sergeants,  were  the  ones  to  ask.  They 
said  arrests  had  diminished  one-fourth,  property 
value  had  increased,  the  death-rate  had  remark- 
ably decreased.  Finally,  they  wished  every 
ward  in  the  city  was  thus  moving  on  the  up- 
grade. 


0         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 
CHAPTER   XXIII. 

WIDENING  PLANS. 

"  She  knew  not  if  beneath  the  boughs  they  woke, 
Or  dropped  upon  her  from  the  realms  above. 
'  What  wilt  thou,  woman  !'  in  the  dream  he  spoke  ; 
'  Thy  sorrow  moveth  me,  thyself  I  love. 
Long  have  I  counted  up  thy  mournful  years, 
Once  I  did  weep  to  wipe  away  thy  tears.'  " 

THE  columns  of  the  city  papers  must  be 
kept  full.  When  exciting  political  campaigns 
are  in  progress,  when  wars  and  rumors  of  wars 
fill  the  air,  easy  is  the  task  of  the  editor.  He  has 
only  to  take  what  pleases  him  best  of  the  crowd- 
ing news  which  our  Athenians  of  the  nineteenth 
century  love  to  hear ;  but  when  the  "  whole  earth 
is  at  rest  and  keepeth  quiet,"  then  is  every  nook 
and  corner  of  the  metropolis  searched  for  an 
item,  and  great  is  the  joy  of  the  reporter  at  find- 
ing something  new  under  the  sun  and  exquisite 
is  his  elaboration  of  every  small  theme. 

The  first  year  of  Deborah's  experiment  with 
her  Bureau  was  the  year  of  an  exciting  Presi- 
dential contest,  and  no  news  but  party  news  was 
sought  after.  The  humble  effort  for  the  benefit 
of  working-girls  was  ignored  or  put  in  diamond 
type  in  a  corner.  But  when  the  next  year  came, 


WIDENING  PLANS.  347 

Uncle  Josiah  met  at  the  Seamen's  Bethel  a 
young  reporter  who  devoted  himself  especially 
to  the  gathering  of  items  concerning  religious 
and  philanthropic  work.  Having  met  him  a  few 
times  in  temperance  gatherings,  Uncle  Josiah 
unfolded  to  him  the  plan  of  the  Bureau  and  in- 
vited him  to  visit  it.  The  reporter  came  and 
was  at  once  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Deborah 
and  her  work,  of  the  Settlement,  and  of  Leila's 
Day  Nursery.  Possessing  a  facile  pen,  he  wrote 
up  these  matters  attractively,  and  so  the  press, 
that  great  angel  flying  between  heaven  and 
earth,  arrived  to  the  aid  of  Deborah's  plans. 

The  very  first  extended  article  on  the  Bureau 
came  under  the  eye  of  a  pastor  just  called  to 
one  of  the  large  churches  of  the  city,  a  man  in- 
tensely interested  in  work  for  the  working  peo- 
ple. He  came  promptly  to  see  the  Bureau,  and 
lo  he  had  been  in  his  youth  well  acquainted  with 
Uncle  Josiah,  in  whose  native  place  he  had  at- 
tended school.  In  those  days  Uncle  Josiah 's 
library  and  pretty  little  home  had  been  open  to 
David  MacMay,  and  now  Dr.  David  MacMay 
was  glad  to  renew  the  old-time  friendship. 
Speedily  the  two  were  very  intimate  and  in  fre- 
quent conference.  Dr.  MacMay  made  known 
the  Bureau  work  to  the  ladies  of  his  flock ;  car- 
riages now  appeared  before  the  door  of  the  Bu- 
reau ;  it  was  easy  to  find  places  for  the  women 


348          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

who  were  applying  for  work  in  increasing  num- 
bers ;  seamstress  and  laundress  work  was  se- 
cured through  the  Bureau,  nurses,  typewriters, 
cooks,  and  maids  were  called  for ;  the  flour-bags 
and  tags  disappeared,  and  sewing  and  mending 
at  far  better  prices  came  in  their  room.  The 
new  friends  suggested  new  methods  of  earning 
money  and  new  kinds  of  work  for  workers. 
Kindly  hearts  thought  to  send  some  of  Debo- 
rah's invalids  or  tired-out  ones  into  the  country 
for  some  time  ;  some  were  taken  into  city  homes 
for  a  resting  season. 

Deborah,  Agnes,  Uncle  Josiah,  and  some  peo- 
ple outside  of  the  Bureau  who  received  its  ad- 
vantages, but  did  not  live  in  its  family,  had 
helped  to  eke  out  that  work  at  five  cents  an 
hour,  which  had  kept  the  Bureau  going.  Such 
intense  efforts  were  now  not  needed ;  the  work 
was  paid  for  at  nine  or  ten  cents  an  hour. 

Another  advantage  grew  out  of  this  new 
acquaintance.  Mrs.  Howe  and  Nurse  Agnes 
had  heard  frequently  of  pitiable  cases  of  suffer- 
ing, and  went  among  the  aged,  orphans,  or  hope- 
less invalids.  There  is  little  accommodation  for 
incurables  in  hospitals,  while  their  need  is  so 
great!  How  pitifully  their  years  lengthen  out 
in  poverty  and  discomfort,  with  the  spectre  of 
the  poorhouse  rising  before  them,  grimmer  as 
nearer  day  by  day  !  Our  city  poorhouses  or 


WIDENING  PLANS.  349 

almsliouses  are  so  architecturally  splendid  out- 
side, so  desolate,  hard,  and  unhomelike  within  ! 
Every  city  should  have  a  large  and  well-ap- 
pointed hospital  for  the  incurables.  The  sudden 
cases  of  accident  or  sickness  may  find  the  speedy 
release  of  death,  but  the  years  stretch  in  a  weary 
vista  for  those  who  are  too  sick  and  miserable  to 
enjoy  living,  too  tenacious  of  life  to  die. 

Another  need  which  Mrs.  Howe  much  dwelt 
upon  was  that  of  a  Home  for  Aged  Couples. 
Old  Men's  Homes,  Old  Women's  Homes,  but 
how  few  Homes  for  the  aged  pair  who  have  to- 
gether travelled  the  long  and  tiresome  years 
and  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day. 
"What  God  hath  joined  together  let  not  man 
put  asunder."  Doubly  endeared  to  each  other 
by  the  endurance  of  vicissitudes,  by  the  mis- 
eries lightened,  the  joys  shared,  why  in  decrepi- 
tude should  they  be  driven  to  separate  wards  in 
the  almshouse  or  left  to  starve  in  an  attic  ?  Why 
not  rather  put  a  premium  on  this  married  fealty 
and  affection  and  let  the  two,  in  a  Home  for 
Aged  Couples,  share  in  peace  life's  slow  decline  ? 
Here  and  there,  in  isolated  cities,  we  have  such 
homes,  but  always  insufficient  to  the  need,  and 
then,  O  beloved,  how  much  red  tape  and  how 
many  puerile  restrictions!  In  hospitals  and 
"homes,"  if  anywhere,  we  should  study  the 
golden  rule,  "  to  do  as  we  would  be  done  by." 


350          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

When  such  friends  rose  up  around  the  Bu- 
reau attention  could  be  called  to  the  destitute 
aged  couples,  the  chronic  invalids,  the  sore  and 
pressing  need  of  the  helpless,  as  well  as  work 
found  for  those  able  to  work. 

"The  cities,"  said  Dr.  MacMay,  "are  the 
great  centres  of  civilization  ;  they  are  also  the 
headquarters  of  sorrow !" 

These  new  friends  afforded  Deborah  a  golden 
opportunity  of  making  real  a  cherished  dream  — 
country  visits  for  Jean,  Martha,  Bella,  and  some 
others,  girls  who  were  not  sick,  who  could  ro- 
bustly endure  their  crowded  homes  and  their 
lives  of  labor,  but  who  mentally  and  spiritually 
needed  the  broadening  influence  of  change,  of 
getting  close  to  nature. 

"  What,  miss !  send  me  for  a  country  visit  for 
a  fortnight !"  cried  Jean.  "  Send  a  sick  one  ;  I 
can  rough  it." 

"  I  want  to  put  something  better  into  your 
life,  Jean ;  this  will  help  bring  childhood  back. 
You  must  go  ;  I  'm  building  large  hopes  on  you 
for  the  years  to  come  when  you  have  lived  down 
the  old  craving  and  the  old  experiences ;  you 
will  be  my  right-hand  woman  and  we  will, 
please  God,  work  together  many  years.  These 
country  visits,  now  and  then,  will  help  you  to- 
wards that." 

"  It 's  true  when  I  have  had  a  word  from  OH- 


WIDENING  PLANS.  351 

ver,  now  and  again,  about  the  trees  and  the 
green  roadsides  and  the  bit  singing  birds  where 
he  lives,  I  Ve  longed  to  go,  as  a  child  longs  for 
the  lap  o'  its  mother ;  and  Mrs.  Hodge  has  asked 
me  to  spend  a  Sunday  there." 

"  I  wonder  they  do  n't  all  fly  to  the  country 
in  a  body,"  said  Deborah  to  Dr.  MacMay. 

"  If  we  could  send  back  to  the  country  those 
who  rashly  leave  its  advantages,  it  would  be  one 
of  the  best  blessings  we  could  confer  upon  them. 
Some  of  them  return  thankfully ;  some,  ashamed, 
discouraged,  will  not  go  ;  some  cannot  go.  But 
there  are  many,  born  and  grown  in  the  city,  to 
whom  going  to  the  country  is  not  'return  to 
Eden,'  but  exile.  They  know  none  of  its  ways. 
Moreover,  if  we  emptied  the  city  into  the  rural 
districts,  we  should  simply  change  the  place  and 
keep  the  pain  ;  the  penury  of  the  city  and  its 
vice  would  be  transferred,  not  cured.  It  is  not 
every  man  who,  given  a  hoe  and  a  seed-pack- 
age, can  get  his  dinner  from  the  ground." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  and 
there  you  touch  on  a  fact  that  is  ignored  by 
many  of  our  philanthropic  workers.  It  is  as- 
sumed that  every  child  on  the  streets  of  the  city 
is  pining  for  fresh  air,  flowers,  green  grass  ; 
that  the  greatest  treat  you  can  give  such  chil- 
dren is  to  take  them  to  the  country  and  give 
them  milk.  That  is  a  great  mistake.  A  curb- 


MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

stone  and  a  half-rotten  banana  are  to  some  of 
these  city  youngsters  a  much  more  desirable 
treat  than  any  amount  of  grass  and  milk.  I 
have  seen  some  of  these  lean,  half-fed  gamins 
taken  from  the  slums  to  a  farm  and  seized  with 
a  wretched  nostalgia  for  crowded  tenements  and 
foul-smelling  streets — urbs  is  in  the  ascendant, 
not  rus.  All  children  are  not  born  with  a  yearn- 
ing after  cows,  pigs,  and  chickens ;  all  girls  do 
not  take  cheerfully  to  milking  and  weeding, 
the  airy  farmhouse  kitchen,  with  wide  reaches 
of  clover-field  in  bloom.  They  were  born  to  the 
clangor  of  bells,  the  crash  of  wheels,  the  whirr 
of  machinery.  We  must  take  people  as  we  find 
them,  not  as  we  fancy  it  is  better  they  should 
be.  And  we  must  help  them,  generally,  where 
they  are.  Moreover,  we  must  provide  ordinary, 
feasible  means  of  help.  If  we  are  not  to  catch 
our  larks  until  the  sky  falls,  we  shall  not  catch 
any  larks.  Let  us  make  our  mud-pies  with  the 
mud  that  is  at  hand  ;  we  cannot  send  to  the  San 
Juan  Islands  for  fine  clay,  or  to  Trinidad  for 
asphalt,  or  to  France  for  the  delicate  clay  that 
makes  Sevres  china." 

Deborah  laughed.  "  And  must  we  make  our 
mud-pies  ?" 

"  How  many  moulders  of  mud-pies  have  be- 
come carvers  of  noble  statuary,  potters,  making 
vessels  to  honor ;  builders  of  porcelain  pagodas, 


WIDENING  PLANS.  353 

producers  of  finest  china  to  rejoice  the  souls  of 
connoisseurs.  Luca  della  Robbia  and  Palissy 
the  potter  were  no  doubt  early  adepts  in  mud- 
pies.  How  do  we  know  to  where  our  mud-pies 
may  grow  ?" 

"  Which  all  means,"  said  Deborah,  "  that  by 
simple  methods,  by  organization,  we  must  work 
for  the  city  in  the  city  ;  try  to  make  better  the 
conditions  of  those  whom  the  city  holds  and  will 
not  let  go." 

"And  you,"  said  Dr.  MacMay,  "  have  touched, 
I  think,  the  right  solution.  The  work  should  be 
faithfully  done  ward  by  ward.  Let  us  get  on  with 
our  ideal  ward.  Like  Plato  and  his  friends,  we  are 
fashioning  a  Republic  not  for  ourselves  alone,  it 
may  be  a  pattern  for  the  world.  We  have  pro- 
vided bath-houses  and  summer  and  winter  gar- 
dens ;  we  have  provided  for  the  children.  Let 
us  now  provide  for  those  who  have  reached  a 
working  age.  But  first  let  us  say  that  our  prop- 
erly-governed city  shall  have  compulsory  educa- 
tion, and  shall  not  allow  child-labor.  The  streets 
shall  not  be  infested  with  young  children,  half- 
clad,  hungry-looking,  and  pitiful,  to  appeal  to 
public  charity,  while  they  ostensibly  sell  pencils, 
flowers,  and  little  patent  articles." 

"  Right  here,"  said  Deborah,  "  let  me  tell  you 
an  instance  that  I  heard  from  Mrs.  Howe.  A 
family  had  four  small  children,  and  these,  from 

Mr.  Oro6v»nor'§  Daughter.       23 


354  MR-   GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

the  time  they  reached  the  age  of  four  or  five, 
were  stationed  in  public  places  to  run  after  pass- 
ers-by and  entreat  them  to  buy  small  wares. 
The  poor  babies  won  sympathy  that  often  gave 
a  quarter  for  a  five-cent  article.  The  father 
and  mother  had  three  rooms  in  a  tenement- 
house  and  lived  luxuriously ;  cream,  Mocha  cof- 
fee, gilt-edged  butter,  porterhouse  steaks,  cake, 
beer,  whatever  they  wanted  they  got,  for  the 
children  brought  in,  together,  about  a  hundred 
dollars  a  month.  The  man,  an  expert  brass 
worker,  was  offered  twenty-three  dollars  a  week, 
but  would  not  take  it ;  he  knew  that  the  children 
could  earn  as  much  as  that  for  him,  while  he 
lived  in  idleness." 

"That  is  selling  your  own  flesh  and  blood 
with  a  vengeance,"  said  Dr.  MacMay,  "  and  the 
State  as  the  greater  parent  should  stand  between 
such  monster  parents  and  their  offspring  and 
secure  for  the  little  ones  childhood  and  educa- 
tion. And  now  for  our  workers.  We  shall  have 
the  Settlement  to  educate  them  to  better  aspira- 
tions and  the  Bureau  to  bring,  as  you  put  it, 
Miss  Grosvenor,  need  and  opportunity  together. 
And  we  shall  have,  in  time,  model  factories  and 
business  houses,  giving  to  all  men  what  is  just 
and  equal,  and  having  regard  to  the  physical, 
moral,  and  financial  good  of  the  workers.  O  hap- 
py  city  in  such  a  case !" 


WIDENING  PLANS.  355 

When  the  Bureau  had  been  eighteen  months 
in  operation,  Uncle  Josiah  told  Deborah  that  he 
had  received  for  it  a  donation  of  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars.  They  must  secure  the  next  house, 
enlarge  operations,  and  Deborah  must  give  up 
her  place  as  forewoman  for  Rendel  Brothers 
and  devote  herself  to  extending  and  perfecting 
her  Bureau  work.  "  I  want  to  see  what  you  can 
do,"  said  Uncle  Josiah.  1) 

Among  the  workers  in  the  finishing-room 
had  been  for  some  months  a  quiet,  ladylike 
young  woman,  with  a  sweet  smile,  who  in  a 
silent,  gentle  way  was  a  power  for  good  among 
the  girls.  She  was  a  frequent  guest  at  the  Set- 
tlement, and  seemed  cheerily  to  take  every  way 
to  ameliorate  the  unpleasantnesses  of  her  posi- 
tion and  to  make  the  best  of  herself  and  of  her 
life.  She  was  an  orphan  ;  her  father  had  been  a 
country  minister,  and  Deborah  from  her  first  ac- 
quaintance had  made  common  cause  with  her. 
This  young  friend  was  now  invited  to  be  clerk 
and  book-keeper  of  the  Bureau.  "  Learn  all  its 
workings,"  said  Uncle  Josiah.  "  Some  time  it 
may  be  left  to  your  sole  management." 

"  And  what  will  become  of  Deborah  ?" 

"Who  knows?"  said  Uncle  Josiah  with  the 
air  of  an  oracle. 

Winter  passed,  and  when  spring  came  Dr. 
MacMay  had  a  new  plan  on  foot — a  sea-side 


356          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

home  for  some  of  the  city  workers.  Nurse 
Jamieson  and  Mrs.  Howe  were  to  go  for  a  month 
among  the  others.  Deborah  was  going  to  spend 
a  month  with  Leila  Stirling,  to  see  the  happiness 
of  Leila's  shop-girl  guests  and  to  rejoice  in  the 
growth  and  charms  of  the  baby  Linda,  now  a 
merry  chattering  toddler,  filling  Leila  with  daily 
delight. 

"  Let  us  go  and  find  Mrs.  Howe,"  said  An- 
drew MacMay  to  Deborah,  "and  arrange  for 
her  to  go  with  Agnes  to  the  beach  at  once.  I 
thought  the  dear  little  old  lady  looked  worn 
when  I  saw  her  last." 

Andrew  MacMay  was  Dr.  MacMay's  younger 
brother,  an  editor  with  philanthropic  work  for 
his  hobby.  He  was  often  at  the  Bureau,  and 
Deborah  was  sure  of  his  interest  in  every  widen- 
ing scheme.  They  set  out  to  find  Mrs.  Howe. 
She  was  not  at  her  room,  but  as  they  turned 
down  an  adjacent  street  they  heard  a  piping  lit- 
tle call,  and  there  was  Mrs.  Howe  breathlessly 
trotting  after  them.  There  was  no  smile  on  her 
pale,  drawn  face ;  it  was  evident  she  was  ill. 

"  I  knew  you  were  looking  for  me,"  she 
panted ;  "  I  have  been  all  day  with  a  sick  person." 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you  are  ill  yourself," 
said  Deborah.  "  Come  at  once  to  the  invalid 
room  at  my  Bureau,  and  let  Agnes  nurse  you 
until  you  can  go  with  her  to  the  beach." 


WIDENING  PLANS.  357 

It  was  but  a  little  way,  and  Deborah  and  her 
friend  helped  the  weary  little  body  along. 
Nurse  Agnes  gave  her  a  tonic  and  put  her  to 
bed.  Mr.  MacMay  remained  at  the  Bureau,  and 
he  and  Uncle  Josiah  and  Deborah  had  tea  in  the 
sitting-room,  served  by  a  little  girl  whom  Deb- 
orah had  taken  to  bring  up.  They  often  had 
tea  in  that  fashion,  and  enjoyed  it  much.  After 
tea  Nurse  Jamieson  sent  them  word  that  Mrs. 
Howe  wanted  to  see  them.  She  was  propped  up 
against  white  pillows. 

"  I  want  to  bid  you  good-by,"  she  said,  "  for  I 
am  going  away  ;  I  think  I  have  a  message  from 
the  King.  I  have  prayed  to  be  allowed  to  work 
as  long  as  I  lived,  and  then  go  speedily.  The 
Lord  has  not  been  unmindful  of  my  request." 

Then  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  '  Now  while  they 
lay  here,  and  waited  for  the  good  hour,  there 
was  a  noise  in  the  town  that  there  was  a  post 
come  from  the  Celestial  City,  with  matter  of 
great  importance  to  one  Christiana,  the  wife  of 
Christian,  the  Pilgrim.  So  inquiry  was  made  for 
her,  and  the  house  was  found  out  where  she 
was ;  so  the  post  presented  her  with  the  letter, 
the  contents  whereof  were,  "  Hail,  good  woman ! 
I  bring  thee  tidings  that  the  Master  calleth  for 
thee,  and  expecteth  that  thou  shouldst  stand  in 
his  presence  in  clothes  of  immortality,  within 
ten  days.'"" 


358          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  It  will  be  less  than  ten  days,  sir ;  not  ten 
hours  I  make  sure,  for  the  pitcher  is  broken  at 
the  fountain  and  the  wheel  is  broken  at  the  cis- 
tern. My  work  is  done,  and  I  am  going.  Read 
me  the  twenty  -  third  Psalm,  Mr.  MacMay, 
please." 

He  read  it.  A  light,  as  from  the  land  of 
light,  fell  over  the  white  hair  and  pallid  face. 

"  It  is  good  to  work  for  God,"  she  said.  "It 
brings  no  sorrow.  I  wish  I  had  worked  more. 
You  will  work  more  and  better.  Good-by." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  then  presently  looked 
up  again  at  Deborah  and  Mr.  MacMay  standing 
near  her.  "  Good-by.  You  will  work  more  and 
better — and  you  will  work  together." 

"  God  grant  it !"  said  Mr.  MacMay  gently  in 
Deborah's  ear.  She  did  not  look  towards  him 
Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  aged  face,  settling 
into  the  calm  of  death. 

"  After  she  looked,  for  this  her  dream  was  deep ; 
She  looked,  and  there  was  naught  beneath  the  tree ; 
Yet  did  her  love  and  longing  overleap 
The  fear  of  angels,  awful  as  they  be, 
And  she  passed  out  between  those  blessed  things 
And  brushed  her  mortal  weeds  against  their  wings." 


"AT  LAST  I  TELL  YOU   THE  TRUTH."       359 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"AT  LAST  I  TELL  YOU  THE  TRUTH." 

"  Oh  that  some  power  would  give  me  Adam's  eyes, 

Oh  for  the  straight  simplicity  of  Eve ! 
For  I  see  naught,  or  grow,  poor  fool,  too  wise 
With  seeing — to  believe." 

AFTER  the  heat  and  closeness  of  the  city 
nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  the 
change  to  the  home  of  Leila  Stirling.  Honey- 
suckles loaded  the  air  with  perfume ;  there  were 
beds  of  pansies  and  verbenas  in  shady  places ; 
every  week  new  and  choice  roses  bloomed,  and 
a  splendid  procession  of  lilies  kept  pace  with  the 
advancing  season.  A  stream  rippled  under  wil- 
lows, swans  sailed  on  a  miniature  lake,  the  un- 
disturbed birds  and  squirrels  frequented  the 
trees,  while  here  and  there,  across  the  lawn, 
hopping  in  security,  might  be  seen  the  gray  and 
white  of  a  wild  rabbit. 

Seated  one  evening  on  the  veranda,  beside 
Leila's  invalid's  chair,  Deborah  watched  the 
beautiful  shadows  cast  by  the  full  moonlight  on 
the  lawn  :  crickets  chirred,  shrill  katydids  called  ; 
the  whippoorwill  sounded  its  monotone  from 
the  distant  willows,  and  the  frogs  lent  a  hoarse 
bassoon  to  the  night  music. 


360          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Deborah,  what  would  you  like  best  of  all  for 
yourself,  for  your  future  life?"  asked  Leila. 
"  Build  such  a  castle  for  the  future  as  you  would 
like  best  to  live  in." 

"  That  might  not  be  wise  occupation,  even  for 
an  hour,"  said  Deborah  ;  "  it  might  help  to  make 
me  discontented ;  for  my  life  all  along  the  fu- 
ture is  sure,  by  my  own  choice,  to  be  very  differ- 
ent from  that  which  I  should  really  desire,  if  it 
were  honestly  and  rightly  possible." 

"  Then  at  least  live  that  life  for  once,  in  a 
dream,"  urged  Leila,  "  and  when  I  am  thinking 
of  you  as  I  often  do,  I  can  have  that  fresh  avenue 
for  thought  to  travel — what  might  be  if  it  could. 
Begin,  my  Deborah !  Sick  folks  must  be  hu- 
mored." 

Deborah  laughed  and  yielded  ;  the  charm  of 
her  surroundings,  the  ease,  the  softness  of  the 
moonlight,  lured  towards  dreams. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  what  people — I  mean 
most  women — most  desire,  a  home — an  indi- 
vidual, domestic  home,  not  a  Bureau  or  a  Settle- 
ment or  a  crowded  house.  I  should  like  those  to 
visit,  to  aid,  to  help  on,  but  I  really  would  like 
a  home.  That  is  God's  ideal  for  the  race,  and 
its  loveliness  has  grown  into  my  heart  in  these 
five  years  since  I  lost  my  home.  When  I  had  a 
home  I  was  discontented  and  did  not  interest 
myself  in  it.  There  was  nothing  left  in  it  for 


"AT  LAST  I  TELL  YOU  THE  TRUTH."     361 

me  to  do,  and  so  I  did  not  care  so  much  for  it. 
We  had,  I  think,  under  my  poor  step-mother's 
administration,  no  true  domesticity.  I  should 
like  to  create  a  home." 

"  Yes :  and  what  kind  of  a  home  ?" 

"  Outside  of  the  city,  but  near  my  work :  a 
home  surrounded  by  trees,  birds,  flowers,  green 
fresh  hedges,  and  soft  sward.  A  home  not  so 
expensive  as  this  that  has  been  left  you,  my 
Leila,  but  commodious  and  beautiful,  for  I  dear- 
ly love  beauty." 

"  Yes,"  said  Leila  again  approvingly,  "  I  un- 
derstand, such  a  place  as  this  Vinton  property, 
next  to  me.  A  gem  of  a  place,  and  not  dear.  It 
would  just  suit  you,  Deborah.  Good  water; 
plenty  of  fruit ;  lovely  views  ;  good  stable  for 
two  horses :  all  modern  conveniences.  I  read 
the  advertisement  to-day.  It  is  for  sale,  in  ex- 
cellent order." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  stay  long  in  Vinton 
hands,  if  poor  Deborah,  who  has  nothing,  must 
be  sole  aspirant  to  its  possession." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt.  But  go  on,  Deborah ;  let  us 
imagine  you  did  have  just  such  a  home,  and  in- 
come to  maintain  it.  Then  ?" 

"You  understand,  my  dear,  I  should  need 
much  more  than  income  enough  to  maintain  my 
own  home ;  because  if  I  fell  back  into  my  old 
style  of  consuming  all  that  I  possess  upon  my- 


362         MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

self,  I  should  soon  be  the  idle,  discontented,  selfish 
Deborah,  useless  and  careless,  that  I  once  was. 
How  much  greater  would  be  my  blame  now, 
because  I  have  learned  how  great  is  the  cry  of 
human  need  and  how  blessed  it  is  to  answer  it ! 
I  have  been  '  in  Eden,  the  garden  of  God,'  in 
point  of  opportunity.  If  I  were  to  have  a  well- 
appointed  home,  and  live  in  it,  then  I  must  have 
an  income  more  than  double  enough  for  the 
moderate  and  just  needs  of  that  home,  so  that  I 
could  carry  on  my  work  for  workers.  I  must  be 
able  '  to  stretch  forth  my  hands  to  the  poor,  yea, 
to  reach  forth  my  hands  to  the  needy.'  I  must 
be  able  '  to  entertain  strangers.'  My  handmaids 
to  whom  I  give  work,  my  household  who  are 
clothed  in  scarlet,  my  maids  who  have  their  por- 
tion, must  be  all  my  needy  working  sisters. 
'Whoso  putteth  his  hand  to  the  plough  and 
looketh  back  is  not  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God.'  " 

"  Then  you  must  have  a  husband  like-minded 
with  yourself." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  see  clearly  that  I  could  never 
say  to  any  man,  '  Here  is  a  work  that  I  have 
chosen,  a  work  given  to  me  to  do ;  take  it  now 
and  do  it ;  dedicate  all  that  you  have  to  it.'  Be- 
cause every  one  must  do  his  own  work,  and  that 
would  be  to  merge  my  call  to  work  in  the  work 
of  another,  also  called  to  serve." 

"And  so?" 


"AT   LAST  I   TELL  YOU   THE  TRUTH."      363 

"  So,  as  I  am  not  rich,  and  cannot  dedicate  an 
income  and  my  superintendence  to  such  work 
as  I  am  doing  in  the  city,  I  must  give  myself, 
my  personal  work,  to  it  instead." 

"  But  if  that  is  every  one's  duty,  where  will 
be  the  homes  ?" 

"  Clearly  it  is  not  every  one's  duty,  but  it  is 
mine.  Most  girls  have  not,  with  my  opportuni- 
ties of  education,  served  such  an  apprenticeship 
to  poverty  as  I  have.  Few  began  by  being  so 
idle  and  selfish,  by  such  a  miserable  misuse  of 
large  means.  I  see  it  is  in  me  to  be  such  a  self- 
server  that  I  should  not  dare  to  live  as  others 
do,  giving  only  a  little  time,  thought,  or  income 
to  philanthropic  work.  I  should  relapse  to  what 
I  was  and  what  I  hate.  My  soul  has  been  too 
deeply  stirred  to  permit  me  to  risk  that  selfish 
life  again.  I  am  content  now  that  God  shall 
take  my  service  and  use  me  as  he  will." 

"That  means  that  you  would  follow  every 
clear  indication  of  Providence  ?" 

"  I  hope  so,  whether  pleasant  or  painful.  Do 
you  not  see  that  God,  by  the  way  in  which  he 
has  prospered  me,  has  set  the  seal  of  his  appro- 
val on  my  work  ?" 

"  It  seems  so  indeed,"  said  Leila. 

The  next  evening  Leila  and  Uncle  Josiah 
sat  together  on  the  veranda,  and  up  and 
down  along  the  moonlighted  paths  two  tall 


364          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

figures  paced  slowly — Deborah  and  Andrew 
MacMay. 

Uncle  Josiah  had  come  to  spend  a  few  days 
at  Leila's  home.  Mr.  MacMay  had  come  from 
the  city  to  take  tea.  It  was  a  long  trip,  merely 
to  get  tea ;  and  now  Leila  began  to  think  that 
this  guest  would  miss  the  midnight  train  for  the 
city,  so  indifferent  he  seemed  to  the  horse  that 
waited  for  him  before  the  great  gate. 

Finally  these  two  turned  and  walked  towards 
the  gate. 

"  It  is  ended,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 

"  With  a  no"  said  Leila,  " for  you  notice  the 
space  between  them  as  they  walk?  Deborah, 
you  see,  has  given  her  all — herself  and  all  that 
she  has — to  her  work." 

Uncle  Josiah  rose  and  followed  his  niece  and 
Mr.  MacMay  briskly  down  the  walk.  He  came 
up  with  them  at  the  gate.  "  Going,  Mr.  Mac- 
May?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  late  too." 

"  Never  fear  ;  you  will  get — the  train." 

"  Good-by,"  said  Deborah  in  a  tone  of  finality. 

"  Not  for  long,"  said  Andrew  MacMay  stur- 
dily ;  "  I  am  coming  back,  if  I  do  miss  to-night." 

"  So  you  refused  him  ?"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  as 
the  editor  rode  off. 

"  How  do  you  know,  uncle  ?" 

"  I  am  not  an  idiot,  if  I  am  an  old  bachelor. 


"AT  LAST  I  TELL  YOU  THE  TRUTH."      365 

He  is  a  good  man  and  a  true,  an  educated 
Christian  gentleman ;  I  find  him  handsome  and 
agreeable.  Why  that  'no,'  Deborah?" 

"  What  other  course  was  left  me,  uncle  ?  I 
could  not  handicap  any  man  with  the  work  I 
have  undertaken.  My  Bureau  is  now  fairly  in- 
dependent, but  the  Bureau  is  not  all.  The  city 
lies  down  there ;  you  see  the  red  glare  of  its 
night  lights  against  the  sky ;  it  is  full  of  need, 
of  misery,  of  sin.  I  know  down  there  a  thou- 
sand working-girls,  my  sisters,  who  call  me  to 
aid  them.  They  are  neglected,  oppressed,  given 
hard  work,  long  hours,  scant  wages,  severe 
household  burdens.  They  have  no  time,  no 
knowledge,  no  power  to  rise  up  in  their  own 
behalf  and  make  their  conditions  better.  Phys- 
ically, morally,  religiously,  financially,  they  need 
help.  Who  shall  give  it  ?  Who  shall  know  the 
real  wrongs  and  the  right  remedy  but  one  who 
has  been  of  them,  shared  their  difficulties,  and 
yet  has  shared  a  better  too  and  knows  by  the 
contrast  how  sore  the  trials  are  and  what  com- 
forts and  advantages  are  possible  to  woman? 
Where  can  one  be  found  to  whom  God  has 
given  such  opportunities  of  training  for  this 
work  as  to  me  ?  If  I  could  supplement  my  su- 
perintendence by  wealth  and  by  my  social  influ- 
ence, then  I  might  prosecute  the  work  in  that 
way.  But  my  days  of  wealth  and  social  influ- 


366  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

ence  are  gone  by  ;  to  do  anything  at  all  now,  I 
must  give  myself."  v 

"  You  have  said  what  I  wanted  you  to  say, 
Deborah." 

'"Then  you  do  not  blame  me?"  said  Debo- 
rah, taking  her  uncle's  arm  with  a  little  sigh,  for 
now  the  sound  of  the  horse's  feet  had  died  away 
down  the  road. 

"  Blame  you,  my  child  ?  You  have  in  all 
things  more  than  met  my  expectations.  But 
this  man — at  least  he  is  sincere ;  he  is  not  a  for- 
tune-hunter, Deborah." 

Deborah  laughed  a  little.  "The  days  are 
gone  by  when  fortune-hunters  swarmed  about 
me.  From  the  time  when  I  was  seventeen  un- 
til I  was  twenty-one  I  had — well,  a  number  of 
offers.  I  think  all  of  them  were  due  to  my  for- 
tune. And,  uncle,  I  cannot  blame  those  suitors 
for  being  attracted  by  what  was  my  only  attrac- 
tion. How  could  any  one  love  a  girl  so  cold,  so 
supercilious,  so  indifferent  to  others,  so  intensely 
selfish,  so  unutterably  discontented  as  I  was  ?" 

"  You  were  always  handsome,  Deborah." 

"  Handsomeness,  beauty,  consists  chiefly  in 
expression,  uncle ;  and  truly,  as  I  remember 
how  I  looked  in  that  glass  in  my  dressing-room, 
I  think  I  had  as  disagreeable  an  expression  as 
was  ever  on  anybody's  face !"  cried  Deborah 
frankly. 


"AT  LAST  I   TELL  YOU   THE  TRUTH."       367 

They  were  back  at  the  veranda,  and  Leila 
heard  the  statement.  "  At  all  events  you  have 
a  most  attractive  expression  now,  dear  Debo- 
rah," she  said. 

"  I  think  it  must  have  improved,"  said  Debo- 
rah cheerily,  "  for  I  notice  that  dogs  and  babies 
take  to  me,  and  once  they  did  not.  I  do  n't  trust 
to  the  glass  now  very  much,  for  mine  is  small 
and  somewhat  crooked,  and  besides  I  am  too 
busy  to  look  at  it  often." 

"  Deborah,"  said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  it  is  late,  but 
I  must  have  a  long  talk  with  you  to-night ;  and 
Leila  wishes  to  hear  it.  We  can  rest  later  to- 
morrow, to  make  up  for  late  hours  to-night.  To 
begin  with,  will  you  fix  your  mind  carefully  and 
intently  on  what  you  were  five  years  ago  when 
your  step-mother  was  killed.  Meditate  on  that 
for  five  minutes.  Remember  carefully." 

"  I  have  remembered,  uncle,"  said  Deborah 
after  a  little.  "  I  was  an  intolerable  burden  to 
myself,  had  no  care  for  others,  no  realization  of 
Christian  duty,  no  love  to  God  !" 

"  Now,  my  child,  return  in  fancy  to  that  state 
of  mind  and  heart ;  suppose  that  your  father's 
fortune  had  come  to  you  intact,  and  follow  out 
in  thought  the  life  you  would  have  lived." 

After  a  time  of  silence  Deborah  spoke  :  "  Un- 
cle, it  would  have  been  a  bitter,  weary  life,  and 
the  end  thereof  death." 


368  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Tell  me,  Deborah,  has  this  change  that  has 
come  over  your  spirit,  the  difference  in  yourself, 
in  your  manner  of  life,  in  your  eternal  pros- 
pects, been  worth  the  price  you  have  paid  for 
it,  loss  of  fortune,  loss  of  social  position,  loss  of 
ease  and  leisure  ?  Has  it  been  worth  the  vexa- 
tions and  rebuffs  you  have  suffered  as  a  working 
woman  ?" 

After  another  careful  pause:  "Yes,  uncle. 
And  as  to  the  rebuffs,  my  nature  is  not  one  to 
suffer  much  from  them.  I  am  given  to  taking 
myself  at  my  own  valuation,  and  being  suffi- 
cient to  myself." 

"  Deborah,  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  I 
must  begin  with  your  father.  He  had  been 
trained  by  a  pious  mother  to  live  for  God.  Little 
by  little,  in  the  cares  of  business,  he  turned  aside 
to  the  service  of  Mammon  and  lived  only  to  be 
rich.  When  he  lay  near  to  death,  he  felt  that 
he  had  '  fed  on  the  east  wind,  that  a  deceived 
heart  had  turned  him  aside.'  His  repentance 
was  bitter  and  deep.  One  great  burden  on  his 
heart  was  that  you,  to  him  the  dearest  being  on 
earth,  had  been  spoiled  by  the  selfish  and  luxu- 
rious atmosphere  by  which  he  had  surrounded 
you.  He  saw  you  exposed  to  the  perils  of  a 
very  rich  woman ;  he  saw  you  an  entirely  selfish 
and  very  unhappy  woman ;  he  knew  that  you 
had  large  capacities,  smothered  by  the  incubus 


"AT  LAST   I  TELL  YOU   THE  TRUTH."      369 

of  your  idle  life;  tie  remembered  the  genial, 
generous,  loving  character  of  your  early  child- 
hood, and  realized  that  a  false  system  of  educa- 
tion had  crushed  or  warped  those  lovely  native 
qualities  and  developed  evil  traits  in  their  places. 
He  who  should  have  reared  you  for  heaven  had 
delivered  you  over,  bound  hand  and  foot,  to  the 
god  of  this  world.  In  the  midst  of  his  self- 
reproach  and  intense  anxiety  for  you  I  sug- 
gested to  him  a  remedy,  a  heroic  remedy.  I 
proposed  that  he  should  divest  himself  of  all  his 
fortune  and  die  a  poor  man ;  that  you  should 
be  left  a  poor  girl,  compelled  to  meet  the  cares 
of  poverty  and  work  for  your  living ;  that  you 
should  learn  by  experience  the  sorrows  and 
wants  of  your  sister  women.  That  I  might  not 
have  the  means  out  of  which  I  might  naturally 
be  expected  to  assume  your  support  in  some- 
thing of  the  ease  and  idleness  in  which  you  had 
grown  up,  I  passed  over  to  your  father  all  my 
property,  except  an  income  of  about  eight  hun- 
dred a  year.  Then  your  father  divested  himself 
of  all  his  fortune,  and  to  do  this  had  to  rely  upon 
the  secrecy  and  honor  of  two  men,  my  friends 
from  childhood.  They  were  for  five  years  to  be 
sole  possessors  of  the  property,  and  at  the  end 
of  five  years  to  return  it  to  you.  For  this  return 
we  had  only  their  pledged  faith.  Also  during 
those  years,  if,  as  we  hoped,  your  heart  enlarged 

Mr.  Grosvenor'«  Daughter.  "2 


37Q  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

and  you  gave  yourself  to  philanthropic  work,  I 
was  to  aid  you,  as  I  saw  right,  in  your  schemes, 
and  these  friends  were  to  furnish  me  money  for 
such  aid.  It  was  from  them,  Deborah,  that  I 
got  first  six  thousand  and  then  twenty  thou- 
sand for  your  Bureau.  They  are  the  real  firm 
of  Rendel  Brothers,  opening,  at  my  instance,  a 
factory  carried  on  upon  liberal  and  righteous 
principles.  I  pledged  myself  to  your  father 
that  I  would  take  care  that  you  did  not  suffer  in 
mind  or  in  health  from  your  battle  with  adver- 
sity. Nurse  Jamieson  was  taken  into  our  confi- 
dence and  was  to  remain  with  you  to  care  for 
your  health.  If  either  Agnes  or  I  had  died  in 
this  interval,  the  holders  of  your  property  had 
other  guardians  for  you  ready.  We  bound  our- 
selves to  your  father  that  this  experiment 
should  last  but  five  years,  and  when  you  reached 
twenty-six  you  should  return  to  your  inherit- 
ance, with  whatever  riches  of  experience  you 
had  gained.  I  felt  assured  that,  released  from 
the  thraldom  of  your  wealth  and  narrow  social 
bondage,  you  would  develop  the  strength  and 
nobility  of  your  character;  and  given,  in  the 
maturity  of  your  twenty-six  years,  the  steward- 
ship of  your  property,  you  would  ever  hold  it 
in  fee  for  God  and  for  humanity.  Deborah,  to- 
morrow you  will  be  twenty-six  years  old.  My 
friends  will  be  here  to-morrow,  and  in  your  own 


"AT  LAST  I  TELL  YOU  THE  TRUTH."      371. 

hands  will  then  be  vested  the  wealth  which  your 
father  had  nearly  lost  your  soul  and  his  own  to 
secure.  That  fortune,  my  child,  like  the  water 
brought  to  David  '  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem 
which  is  before  the  gate/  had  nearly  been  the 
price  of  blood.  David  thought  the  draught  too 
sacred  to  be  consumed  on  self ;  he  poured  it  out 
as  an  offering  before  the  Lord.  Take  back,  my 
child,  what  was  taken  from  you  for  a  season  and 
answer  to  God  henceforth  for  your  steward- 
ship." 

Deborah  sat  astounded ;  she  could  not  speak. 

"I  only  knew  this  since  yesterday,"  said 
Leila. 

"  No  one  else  knew  it  but  the  two  friends 
who  hold  the  property,  your  father,  lawyer,  and 
Agnes  and  myself,"  said  Uncle  Josiah.  "  You 
see  if  it  had  been  known  to  more,  and  bruited 
about,  your  social  condition  would  at  once  have 
been  such  that  my  experiment  must  have  failed ; 
you  could  not  have  known  the  depths  of  poverty 
and  ostracism." 

"I  have  not  known  the  depths  of  poverty. 
As  for  the  ostracism,  I  did  not  mind  it,"  said 
Deborah. 

"If  you  had  had  wider  experience  of  life," 
said  Uncle  Josiah,  "  greater  business  knowledge, 
I  think  you  would  have  suspected  that  affairs 
were  not  exactly  as  you  saw  them  on  the  surface. 


372          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

My  salary  of  thirty  dollars,  paid  monthly  by 
myself,  held  out  for  too  many  treats.  Flowers 
and  appliances  for  mission  work  came  to  us  with 
a  readiness  that  would  have  made  some  peo- 
ple suspicious.  Your  engagement  with  Rendel 
Brothers,  as  forewoman,  might  have  seemed 
just  a  little  strange  to  one  versed  in  the  ways 
of  the  world.  Luckily  you  took  what  came  to 
you,  and  did  not  inquire  too  closely  into  it.  That 
was  the  case  in  regard  to  the  money  received 
for  the  Bureau. 

"  I  suspected  that  you  would  trust  me  so  much, 
and  be  so  absorbed  in  what  you  were  doing,  that 
I  could  help  you  over  hard  places  without  re- 
vealing my  secret.  You  have  found  out  some 
of  the  hardness  of  a  working  woman's  life,  my 
dear.  Never  forget  that  there  would  have  been 
a  ten-fold  hardness  if  you  had  really  been  cast 
on  the  world  without  a  friend  or  a  dollar." 

"  Deborah,  tell  me,"  cried  Leila,  "  did  they 
do  right?  Are  you  satisfied  with  this  experi- 
ment ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Deborah. 

"  When  I  first  heard  it  it  seemed  a  hard  rem- 
edy," said  Leila. 

"  What  remedy  is  too  hard  when  the  saving 
of  a  soul  is  in  question,"  said  Uncle  Josiah. 
"  And  after  all  what  is  it  that  has  been  done  ? 
Consider  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  though 


"AT  LAST  I  TELL  YOU  THE   TRUTH."      373 

he  was  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  became  poor, 
that  we  through  his  poverty  might  be  rich ! 
Compared  with  that  infinite  condescension  what 
is  this  little  step  which  Deborah  made  from  the 
house  of  Dives  to  the  house  of  Lazarus?" 

"  If  I  had  known  all  this  I  might  not,  I  could 
not,  have  learned  my  lesson  as  I  have."  Deborah 
rose  and  stood  in  the  moonlight  with  clasped 
hands  ;  her  face  was  radiant.  "  Oh,  uncle !  I 
praise  God  that  he  gave  my  father  courage  to 
accept  what  he  gave  you  wisdom  to  plan !  Now 
I  know  how  wise  was  my  father's  love,  how 
deep  his  penitence !  Now  I  know  how  you  de- 
sired that  I  should  reach  my  highest  possible 
plane.  Blessed  be  the  path  that  makes  us  more 
Christlike,  however  hard  it  is  to  tread." 

"  You  have  learned  that,  now  you  are  steward 
of  a  large  fortune,  you  must  be  neither  selfish 
nor  lavish.  If  the  loss  of  your  father  had  broken 
up  your  coldness  and  selfishness,  while  you  had 
no  knowledge  resulting  from  experience,  you 
might  have  done  mischief  by  pauperizing  peo- 
ple, and  the  undeserving  might  have  been 
those  who  shared  your  chief  favors.  And  you 
have  no  doubt  been  saved  what  your  father  feared 
for  you  most  of  all — a  loveless  marriage  with  a 
fortune-hunter.  He  yielded  to  my  plan  in  the 
hope  of  making  you  a  happy  woman." 


374          MR-  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

ARISE  AND  LET  US  BUILD. 

" '  The  wilderness,' 
One  angel  said, '  the  solitary  place, 
Shall  yet  be  glad  for  him,  and  he  shall  reign.' 
The  other  angel  answered, '  He  shall  reign.'  " 

"  ARE  you  back  ?"  It  was  the  next  day  at 
noon,  and  so  Deborah  spoke  to  Andrew  Mac- 
May,  at  Leila  Stirling's  door.  The  door  had 
been  standing  open  that  hot  August  morning ; 
Deborah  was  crossing  the  hall  as  Andrew  came 
up.  Surprised  she  cried,  "  Are  you  back  ?"  She 
was  expecting  Uncle  Josiah's  friends  to  appear 
presently. 

"  My  brother  David  sent  me,"  said  Andrew 
with  humility. 

"  It  was  a  deal  of  trouble  to  send,"  began 
Deborah. 

"When  he  might  have  written,"  suggested 
Andrew. 

"  Yes.     But  surely  you  will  come  in." 

They  went  into  a  little  reading-room,  near 
the  library. 

"  There  is  to  be  a  great  meeting  in  my  bro- 
ther's church  a  week  from  to-day,  and  we  want 


ARISE  AND   LET  US  BUILD.  375 

you  to  be  there.  The  ladies  of  our  church  are 
moving  in  the  matter  principally ;  Dr.  Bell's  peo- 
ple are  uniting  with  us.  This  work  by  wards, 
the  Settlement,  Nursery,  Bureau  in  each  ward,  is 
more  and  more  attracting  attention,  and  your 
work  is  more  and  more  coming  into  notice. 
Our  people  want  to  begin  work,  open  a  Bureau, 
plant  a  Settlement,  and  found  a  Nursery  in  the 
ward  next  south  of  the  one  you  are  working. 
Miss  Jacqueline  Day  is  to  come  and  tell  about 
the  Settlement  plan.  We  want  a  paper  from 
Miss  Stirling,  about  Day  Nurseries." 

"  You  must  ask  her  about  that.  But  what  do 
you  want  from  me  ?" 

"  Who,  I  ?  My  brother  wants  that  you  should 
explain  all  about  the  Bureau  and  its  work." 

"  Find  some  one  else.  They  will  not  want 
to  be  dictated  to  by  a  working  woman.  If  I 
appear  there,  it  will  be  strictly  as  a  working 
woman,  and  moreover  you  know  that  I  am  pro- 
nounced in  my  views  and  express  myself  em- 
phatically. They  might  consider  me  dictato- 
rial." 

"  They  will  see  that  you  know  what  you  are 
talking  about.  They  will  be  stirred  by  your 
enthusiasm,  aroused  by  your  energy.  They  will 
see  that  you  are  a  natural  leader,  and  a  leader 
is  wanted — one  quick  to  sympathize,  wise  to 
plan,  courageous  to  execute.  Surely  you  will 


MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

come.  Here  is  the  opportunity  for  extending 
the  very  work  which  you  have  at  heart." 

"  Yes ;  I  will  be  there.  But  society  is  so  con- 
stituted that  it  looks  to  rich  women,  or  women 
in  some  way  distinguished  for  leaders,  not  to 
working  women." 

"  Deborah,  you  are  rich  in  yourself ;  rich 
in  your  experience,  rich  in  your  gifts,  rich  in  the 
abundance  of  your  sympathies.  What  you  have 
planned  for  your  sister  women  you  can  show 
other  women  how  to  execute." 

"  I  will  be  there.  As  for  Leila's  paper,  sup- 
pose you  go  into  the  library  and  ask  Leila." 

She  led  him  to  the  library.  In  the  hall 
they  met  Uncle  Josiah.  "  Deborah,  I  have  some 
friends  whom  you  must  see  in  the  drawing- 
room." 

She  bade  Andrew  MacMay  good  morning. 
Over  an  hour  later  Deborah  went  out  upon  the 
veranda.  Mr.  MacMay  stood  there.  "  Miss  Stir- 
ling has  asked  me  to  dinner,"  he  said. 

"  And  Uncle  Josiah  has  asked  his  friends  to 
dinner  also." 

"  Come  with  me  to  that  tall  rose-bush.  Some 
of  those  white  roses  are  just  what  your  gray 
mull  dress  needs." 

They  went  to  the  rose-bush  and  he  gathered 
the  flowers  for  her.  "  I  told  you  what  my  bro- 
ther wanted  of  you.  You  have  agreed  to  his 


ARISE  AND  LET  US  BUILD.  377 

request.  You  asked  me  by  accident  what  7 
wanted.  You  know  quite  well.  That  we  should 
work  all  our  lives  together,  united  in  the  closest 
bonds  that  God  has  ordained.  So  we  shall  be 
doubly  useful  and  happy." 

"  Yes,"  said  Deborah,  holding  out  her  hand 
to  him  frankly,  "  let  us  work  and  be  happy  in 
that  way." 

"Do  I  hear  you  right?  Can  I  believe  it? 
Miss  Stirling  told  me  not  to  despair,  but  I 
feared." 

"  You  did  not  think  I  would  change  my  mind 
so  soon  ?"  said  Deborah.  "  I  have  not  changed 
my  mind,  but  my  circumstances  have  changed. 
Yesterday  I  was  a  poor  woman  and  could  not 
afford  to  be  happy  in  that  way.  I  have  seen 
great  need  of  a  great  work.  To  do  it  fairly  I 
must  either  give  large  means  and  superintend- 
ence, or,  lacking  the  means,  I  must  give  myself 
entirely.  Yesterday  I  had  no  means  to  give. 
Hourly  work,  constant  effort  to  interest  others, 
were  what  I  had  to  offer  to  my  chosen  mission. 
To-day  I  am  rich,  and  I  can  not  only  give  what 
I  wish  to  supplement  my  plans,  but  I  can  by  the 
force  of  riches  impress  others  and  draw  them  to 
the  work." 

"  Rich  ?    I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  It  is  that  my  money  was  simply  taken 
away  from  me  for  a  season,  until  by  experience 


378  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

of  privation,  by  being  forced  to  labor,  by  seeing 
the  world  as  it  really  is,  and  not  through  a 
golden  glamour,  I  might  know  how  to  use  well 
that  of  which  I  am  the  steward.  Uncle  Josiah 
proposed,  planned,  and  carried  out  the  experi- 
ment. I  have,  you  see,  been  tested,  and  now  I 
am  thought  worthy  to  use  my  fortune." 

Andrew  MacMay  looked  troubled.  The 
heiress,  Miss  Grosvenor,  was  rich  enough  to 
alarm  him.  He  shrank  from  being  regarded  by 
any  as  a  fortune-hunter.  People  would  think 
that  he  knew  all  about  it !  Deborah  understood. 

"  We  shall  know  how  it  was,  if  others  do  not. 
As  to  the  money,  it  is  already  Corban,  a  gift  to 
God." 

"What  a  blessing  it  would  be  if  into  the 
seething  miseries  of  the  city  could  be  cast  many 
fortunes,  not  to  pauperize  the  working  classes, 
but  to  make  tolerable  the  conditions  of  their 
existence  ;  to  enable  them  to  reach  the  physical, 
moral,  intellectual,  social  status  worthy  of  the 
creatures  of  God  and  the  children  of  the  State," 
cried  Andrew,  clasping  both  her  hands. 

Mr.  Conrad,  one  of  Uncle  Josiah's  friends, 
came  near.  "  This  problem  of  the  city  popula- 
tion is  becoming  more  and  more  pressing  every 
day.  The  phenomenon  of  city-ward  tendency 
is  world- wide.  Perhaps  God  has  called  you  two 
to  help  show  us  how  to  avert  its  dangers." 


ARISE  AND   LET  US   BUILD.  379 

"  Miss  Grosvenor,"  said  Andrew,  "  does  not 
propose  like  old-time  Dives  to  feed  Lazarus 
with  the  crumbs  from  her  table.  How  would 
that  story  have  read  if  it  had  ended  that  Dives 
raised  Lazarus  up,  had  him  healed  and  clothed, 
and  recognized  him  as  a  brother  in  the  family  of 
the  divine  Father  ?" 

"  It  would  then  have  had  a  different  ending. 
Not  that  Dives  begged  for  water  to  cool  his 
tongue,  but  that  he  drank  of  the  water  of  God's 
pleasures  for  evermore." 

"  Such  a  story  has  been  told,"  said  Andrew, 
"of  the  great  philanthropist  Quentin  Hogg, 
who  founded  the  London  Polytechnic  for 
Christ's  sake,  and  has  put  into  it  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  of  his  own  money, 
besides  his  time  and  incalculable  personal  influ- 
ence." 

"  Servant  of  God,  well  done}!"  said  Deborah. 

"And,"  continued  Mr.  Conrad,  "that  great 
Fresh-Air  Movement  which  yearly  saves  so 
many  children  by  means  of  a  country  vacation, 
was  inaugurated  by  a  poor  man,  a  country  min- 
ister, who  had  only  his  organizing  abilities,  his 
eloquent  tongue,  and  his  consecrated  zeal  to  put 
into  the  work.  One  of  the  best  city  homes  for 
working-girls  was  started  by  a  young  working- 
girl  on  a  capital  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars  slowly  saved  out  of  her  small  wages." 


380          MR.  GRG-SYENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  little  story,"  said  Debo- 
rah. "  One  evening  when  I  was  at  Leila  Stir- 
ling's, I  heard  a  ring,  and  stepped  into  the  hall 
just  in  time  to  hear  a  timid,  hurried  voice  and 
an  indifferent  '  no '  in  reply  to  it  from  the  man 
servant. 

"  'Just  a  girl — wanting  to  sell  something,'  he 
said.  It  was  nine  o'clock  at  night,  a  winter 
night,  cold  and  dark.  I  ran  to  the  door,  and, 
moving  slowly  from  the  steps  I  saw  a  slight 
figure.  I  called  her,  'Girl,  girl,  come  back- 
please  ;  I  want  what  you  have.'  She  came 
back  a  trembling,  terrified  country  girl  of  six- 
teen, holding  a  little  bracket.  Some  one  had 
written  through  a  friend,  offering  her  a  place  as 
child's  maid.  She  came  to  the  city,  only  to  find 
the  house  where  she  expected  to  live  closed ;  the 
lady,  entirely  forgetful  of  the  new  girl,  had  sud- 
denly gone  South.  The  poor  creature,  not  hav- 
ing money  to  return  home,  had  wandered  for- 
lornly about  the  streets  all  day,  and  was  trying 
to  sell  the  little  treasure  which  she  carried  in 
her  hand  to  get  a  night's  lodging.  Homes, 
open  to  all,  their  doors  and  windows  bearing 
their  invitation  to  refuge,  should  be  scattered 
through  the  cities,  and  reasonably  near  to- 
gether; homes  for  working-girls,  clean,  attract- 
ive, well  ventilated,  well  drained,  comfortable, 
with  elements  of  beauty.  The  working  woman 


ARISE  AND   LET  US   BUILD.  381 

has  the  same  yearning  for  home,  the  same  long- 
ing for  beautiful  surroundings,  as  the  richer  wo- 
man." 

"  We  want  Clubs  also,"  said  Mr.  Carver, 
another  of  Uncle  Josiah's  friends.  "Wherever 
Working-Girls'  Clubs  have  been  instituted,  the 
status  of  the  girls  has  been  elevated.  In  the 
Clubs  the  girls  of  best  moral  and  mental  quality 
come  to  the  front ;  they  raise  the  social  level  of 
the  rest ;  they  give  them  new  ambitions,  new 
ideas;  they  improve  physique  by  inculcating 
regular  hours,  neatness,  and  sound  diet.  They 
encourage  gymnastic  exercises  and  evening 
classes.  Give  us  more  Girls'  Clubs." 

After  dinner,  while  Miss  Stirling's  guests 
were  on  the  piazza,  a  large  wagon  drove  up,  and 
Deborah  saw  in  it  Jean,  Bella,  Nan,  Martha, 
Stella,  now  forewoman  in  her  place,  Oliver,  and 
two  others.  "  How  surprised  and  delighted  I 
am  !"  she  said,  and  she  led  them  towards  a  large 
arbor  draped  in  clematis  and  roses.  She  knew 
that  they  would  be  abashed  if  at  once  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  group  of  strange  gentle- 
men gathered  about  Leila's  chair. 

"  Something  so  queer  happened,"  said  Jean, 
always  the  mouthpiece  of  the  others:  "our 
whole  factory  got  a  holiday  with  wages  not  to 
be  docked !  Mr.  Ames  sorted  us  out  from  the 
rest,  and  said  we  were  to  come  out  here  to  visit 


382          MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

you,  and  he  gave  us  tickets  and  told  us  what 
train  to  take.  Oh  it  has  been  such  a  trip,  and 
what  a  splendid  place  this  is  !  I  do  n't  see  how 
you  can  come  back  among  us  after  being  out 
here." 

"Places  are  not  worth  as  much  as  people," 
said  Deborah.  "  I  care  for  you  girls.  And, 
Stella,  how  do  you  get  on  being  forewoman  in 
my  place  ?" 

"  Ask  the  girls,"  said  Stella. 

"  Right  well,"  said  Martha.  "  She  is  firmer 
than  I  am.  If  we  had  not  you,  she  would  be 
next  best." 

"  And  if  you  were  a  forewoman  with  five 
hundred  a  year,  what  would  you  do,  Stella?" 
said  Deborah. 

"  I  think  I  should  get  a  little  home  outside  of 
town  where  the  schools  were  graded  as  in  the 
city,  so  that  my  boy  could  be  safe  and  continue 
his  studies,  and  Bella's  lame  sister  should  live 
with  me  and  keep  my  home." 

After  an  hour  of  talk  Deborah  escorted  her 
guests  about  the  place,  to  see  the  lake  and  the 
swans,  eat  fruit  in  the  orchard,  to  pick  flowers 
in  the  garden,  and  finally  took  them  back  to  the 
arbor,  and  Leila  was  wheeled  out  there  in  the 
reclining  chair  by  Andrew  MacMay  and  Uncle 
Josiah. 

After  another  talk  Deborah  looked  towards 


ARISE  AND   LET  US   BUILD.  383 

a  table  which  had  at  Leila's  orders  been  spread 
under  the  trees  on  the  lawn ;  fruit,  rolls,  cold 
meat,  chocolate,  and  other  appetizing  edibles 
had  been  spread  out  on  this  table,  and  there 
Deborah  invited  her  visitors  for  a  feast  which 
lasted  until  the  red  glory  of  the  evening  died 
into  a  purple  twilight. 

Their  beautiful  visit  was  ended,  but  Deborah 
promised  herself  that  she  would  buy  Vinton 
Place,  and  that  her  working  sisters  should  have 
many  such  visits  there  in  the  days  to  come. 

"  What !"  said  Jean  to  the  others  one  day, 
some  weeks  later,  "  did  she  know  when  we  were 
there  that  she  was  a  rich  woman,  and  yet  treated 
us  just  the  same  ?  I  feel  sure  now  that  she  truly 
cares,  and  I  shall  not  be  afraid  to  love  her  even 
if  she  is  rich  ;  I  shall  love  her  all  the  more." 

It  was  thus  that  Deborah  had  been  tested  and 
had  borne  the  test. 

The  great  meeting  in  Dr.  MacMay's  church 
was  held  as  appointed.  The  story  of  Deborah 
and  her  fortune  had  crept  into  the  papers,  for 
what  stays  out  of  the  newspapers  ?  Crept  in  ? 
No:  marched  in  with  all  the  flourish  of  re- 
porters' trumpets.  That  prominence  was  the 
one  thing-  which  distressed  Deborah ;  but  these 
are  days  when  one's  private  affairs  are  deemed 
lawful  prey  to  the  public.  The  affair  of  the 
"  Grosvenor  fortune  "  was  a  romance,  a  fairy- 


384  MR.  GROSVENOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

tale  ;  it  helped  to  pack  tlie  church  at  that  meet- 
ing. 

And  when  Deborah  was  called  upon  to  tell 
the  story  of  the  Bureau,  and  her  plan  for  having 
such  a  Bureau  in  every  ward,  she  began  by 
saying,  "I  come  to  you  as  a  working  woman. 
I  too  have  earned  my  daily  bread ;  I  am  glad 
that  I  can  speak  to  you  the  things  that  I  have 
seen,  and  testify  what  by  my  own  experience 
I  know.  I  can  plead  the  cause  of  my  sister  wo- 
men, because  I  know  them  and  have  lived 
among  them,  and  I  am  assured  that  the  true 
help  of  woman  must  not  be  looked  for  primarily 
from  men,  from  working  men  or  educated  men 
or  political  economists,  but  from  thoughtful 
Christian  women.  Every  one  of  us  women  has 
an  errand  from  God  to  our  sister  women ;  let  us 
fulfil  our  errands  with  no  aimless  feet." 

"  Deborah  Grosvenor,"  said  an  enthusiastic 
lady,  an  acquaintance  of  the  old  days,  meeting 
her  when  the  discussion  was  ended,  "  I  never 
dreamed  that  there  was  so  much  in  you !" 

"  There  is  no  doubt  a  great  deal  in  all  of  us 
just  waiting  to  be  brought  out,"  said  Deborah. 


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